


Of Combat Boots and Anarchy

by shurb



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Acrophobia, Alcohol, Angst, Asexual Character, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Claustrophobia, Crushes, Doesn't know it though, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Loss of Identity, M/M, MacCready-centric, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Seizures, Unintentional Weight Loss, War, anger issues, weight loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shurb/pseuds/shurb
Summary: Tyler, a pre-war punk teen, seemingly suffering from governmental defiance against the Brotherhood of Steel, with a soft spot to help the innocent and weak around him.No particular goal drives him through the Commonwealth, making MacCready wonder why he is doing the things he does.And he had decided to take the sniper on his adventures with him through this, to him, unknown world.
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Male Sole Survivor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vault Dweller-Boy.  
> Who he is, and how he and MacCready meet.

"So, you said you came from a Vault," Piper recited, adjusting the pencil in her hand to quickly catch what her newest source of information had to say. She was seated at her desk, paper in front of her and gaze focused on the boy laying on her bed. Said boy was laying in a relaxed manner on her mattress, back leaning slightly on the headboard with the pillow in between to make it a comfortable position to sit in.

"Yeah," he answered simply, not catching the non-verbal request to continue describing the situation he had been in further, but rather continued to have this odd smile on his face, that seemed too lighthearted for this world while his mind was occupied with fumbling with the clean harmonica in his hands. Piper had noticed that his eyelids were usually half closed, and she wondered if he was maybe high. She would ask about that later.

"And how would you describe your time in it? Was it fun and relaxed? I am sure it was much more comfortable than being outside," it came out a little rougher than intended, but pushed that concern aside, knowing how scared and unwilling these vault dwellers were to get their hands dirty, unless they knew they - and only they - would be save; disregarding the safety of other residents of the Commonwealth. But the dweller didn't seem to take note the snark in her voice. He just shrugged, his peaceful expression unchanging.

"I suppose it wasn't bad. It wasn't comfortable to just lay in a decontamination pod since the bomb dropped either, though," he answered, exposing the gap between his white front teeth shortly after with a laugh. "No, wait.. it was some frozen state I was in. Dunno the word."

Piper's eyes widened. "You mean you're from before the Great War?" This was quite unbelievable, and the reporter actually didn't want to believe it, but she knew of cryo pods and their ability to keep people alive for a long period of time. She needed proof. This might as well be the fantasy of a junkie, and despite the clean teeth, the boy gave off that exact vibe. "So, if you are from before the war, can you tell me about what it had been like?" Piper wouldn't think of a simple answer as the truth, though. As his friend Nick would say: The devil is in the details. And as long as this boy provided enough of them, the story would at least be more trustworthy.

"Sure," he sat up a little more, gaze shifting to the ceiling and harmonica disappearing in the pocket of his cargo pants, "It was a little more peaceful, most would say. But due to me being part of a rather... different social group, I knew the lies behind the politicians' words, their apathy for us citizens, and soldiers. There were working TV's, shops, non-mutated animals like cows, lizards and mosquitos. There also were fights and wars going on, but the difference is that nowadays there is no government to hide them from the innocents' eyes." Piper listened intently, watching the other's amber eyes take on a dreamy look, like they saw different images than the old rusty ceiling of her humble home.

When he didn't continue talking, Piper wrote down things that sounded new to her, like this social group he had mentioned. _Against the government and its lies, huh?_ That sounded all too familiar to her. She decided to take the plunge and trust him on being as old as he claimed. "Oh wow, I cannot believe that you are over 200 years old!", she exclaimed, finding this turning out to be the perfect story for her new article.

"And how does this life feel for you? Anything you miss?"

"Nah, I like the freedom people have nowadays. Just sad to still see people murder each other in horrible ways and thus limiting the freedom they could have for themselves. Oh, and the corruption in high positions didn't change either. This world could have really gone without that." The Vault Dweller crossed his arms in mental defiance against such injustice. And Piper could see why. Stuff like this could end lives, or destroy them, keeping the poor human to be stuck in a hopeless situation.

Piper felt like there was more to this and his story, though. These answers tended to be on the simple side, almost basic, if they didn't sound so... old; pre-war. Sure, she was glad the kid knew of the flaws of the present governmental system, but this wouldn't add much news to her paper, with her always preaching about it before.

The reporter sighed. She had never met anyone so tough to interview before. It didn't seem like the kid was doing it intentionally, but it was still hard getting answers that would captivate the readers.

"Alright, last question: Have you noticed the disappearances of people around the Commonwealth? And heard of those people being replaced by synths sent by the Institute?"

This should be easy to answer. Everyone knew of them, or would eventually be confronted by this boogeyman, since everyone in the 'Wealth was aware of the imminent danger of being snatched in the middle of the night, and making it quite known to others by accusing them of being such a machine.

"No. What are synths? And what is that Insti.. Instum?" The boy turned his head to look at the frustrated woman sitting at the desk next to him, eyebrows raised in confusion and slight surprise something like that even existed. Piper exhaled audibly, muscles tense. _I wish I could get paid more, but being the boss of my own paper makes that rather unlikely._

"Let's just focus on a scenario: Someone you know, a family member or a close friend, had been switched out by a robot looking exactly like them, with their original counterpart most likely having been killed. How would you react?"

The boy ran his fingers through his dirty and messed up black hair; due to the grease it stuck out in all directions after that motion -- she would have to remind him to take a bath before they began traveling together, latter being his little prize for doing this interview. "I would want to know who did it, and why... and then show that they cannot do that; in one way or another." It appeared to be an unconscious gesture, but his hand moved to the handle of his baseball bat resting next to him.

"Sounds much better than what the people in this town are saying about stuff like this," she couldn't help but comment.

"Why? What are they doing when someone gets replaced by a robot?"

"Well, either they don't find out someone had been snatched," she leaned back in her chair, twirling the pencil around in her fingers, "or they do find out, and just go on about their day, deeming themselves lucky to not have been it this time." She breathed out a tired sigh. _One day it might be me, or even Nat._

"Sounds unfair."

"A lot is nowadays, kid."

"You do know you can call me by my name, right? Tyler."

He held out his hand towards her, waiting for the reporter to shake it. "Sure, Tyler. I'm Piper, if you haven't heard it during the Mayor's rant already."

She smiled, shaking Tyler's hand and getting up from the chair, putting her hands on her hips: "So, let's go then. I promised to travel with you, didn't I?"

* * *

"Hey, there, squirt, first time in Goodneighbor?"

Tyler and Piper had been in a deep conversation about something as they were stepping through the door. It was only Piper to notice the other man talking to them.

She scanned the other with a quick glance, already sensing that this guy was nothing but trouble. But the boy didn't appear to notice the stranger at all, but just kept talking about that hilarious situation just now: "I almost thought we had to fight all of them, Piper! And I already felt my ass sweat when the nail on my bat got stuck in his skul-!" His rambling stopped the moment this rude man put his hand around Tyler's thin forearm to prevent him from stepping into this town any further.

"Hey, asshole, I'm talking with you."

Tyler didn't tense up, or look scared. He kept this light smirk on his face as he just stared at him. Whether he was just waiting for a response, or thinking of one of his own, Piper couldn't tell.

"You should go and pay for this little insurance contract I got for you," he grinned, not letting go of Tyler's arm, "or there might be some bloody accidents happening to you and your friend soon."

The shorter boy's eyes darkened at that, but the grin didn't vanish off his face. He grabbed the stranger by his collar and pulled him down to his eye height with surprising strength. "I don't care if you got a problem with me," he began, voice as relaxed as ever. Piper looked around and spotted a ghoul in a red coat watching them from afar, seemingly enjoying the display.

"Uh, Tyler, let's just go," she requested, not wanting to have a whole town go against them.

But her companion merely continued: "But you leave my friend out of this, or this," he rested the sharp nail in his natural coloured bat gently against the taller man's forehead, "might accidentally slip right up your ass."

Before the other could say anything else, the man in the red overcoat walked over just as carefree as the Vault-Dweller did in Diamond City; Piper felt like these two could become good friends.

"Finn, are we bullying children again?" he said, an accusing undertone lacing his words. "I told you already that _everyone_ stepping through that door is welcome here."  
"C'mon, Hancock, we have to show who is the boss around here. Otherwise they will step all over us, and then there might be a new mayor!"

Hancock stepped toward Finn a little more, putting his rotting hand on his shoulder. "Finn, it's me we're talking about," Tyler seemed to notice the knife in the ghoul's hand as late as Finn did, eyes actually widening a little as this mayor stabbed him in the stomach multiple times, "and I won't go down like that with people like you around."

His facial features took on an almost mischievous expression, and he pushed Finn away, watching the man curl up on the dirty ground like a wounded animal.

Not the best comparison since he wasn't just hurt, but dying.

Piper looked around. No one was helping, not even looking. Not that gawking would help, but it seemed that all minded their own business, rather than being scared about what had just happened.

"Sorry about that", Hancock put the knife away after wiping the blood off on Finn's jeans, "don't let this first impression by Finn fool you. This town is of the people, for the people. Everyone's welcome, ya dig?" Piper didn't know what to say. This man just killed someone, and brushed that aside as if he had taken care of a radroach. Tyler on the other hand nodded, not minding the murder that had taken place before his eyes.

"Silent type, huh? I don't mind. As long as you guys remember who's in charge." He chuckled, knowing fully well who was standing behind him to get this point across.

Piper was the first to speak, while Tyler kept watching the man and some woman walk back to the building in front of them: "That was... something, huh?"

"The greeting with you and Donough in Diamond City was funnier," he commented, looking at the closed door for a few more seconds before slowly making his way to the two shops near the gate.

There was one stand for weapons with a robot standing behind the counter, the other appeared to be selling the knick-knack-junk one could find all over the Commonwealth, a ghoul working that store.  
"Hey," he greeted the robot, which began to talk in a way Piper hadn't seen much other robots do: "Hello there," her voice sounded seductive, "how can I help a young boy like you? Already have enemies lusting for your blood at such a young age?"  
Tyler laughed at that, but shook his head: "Not that I could think of any, considering those who are alive. What do you have on explosives here?"

Tyler haggled for a little, hoping to get a couple grenades for two fragmentation mines, which he had picked up on the way here; mind you, Piper had seen them, and the boy would be left with a leg less without her. Or dead.

After what seemed like an eternity for the reporter, he finally left the shop, but to her horror went to the second shop. Even worse, he wanted to buy cigarettes!  
Even the lady behind the counter appeared a little surprised, but that expression was quickly gone, considering many youths around here smoked, took drugs, got drunk. It was sad, really. But Piper didn't like to know that Tyler did it. He looked so innocent from afar and close, and she felt like she had to protect him as best as she could.

"That'll be-," the nice lady was about to name the price, when Tyler quickly added: "One more thing, please." Now he appeared a little nervous, almost tense, as if his next request was something forbidden. That got Piper curious of course, and she stood next to him, leaning forward a little to look into his amber eyes that fixed a point on the wall behind the ghoul.  
"Please, wait outside, Piper," he looked away from the wall and smiled at her warmly.  
She didn't want to, of course, but she would judge the boy to either stubbornly wait until she did as asked of, or leave without buying whatever he needed. It couldn't be worse than chems.  
She went outside, taking a seat on the bench. From here she could only see what was going on, but not hear any of it.

"So, boy, what do you need?" she didn't smile as strongly as she did before. Tyler leaned forward a little, his heartbeat picking up. His palms were getting sweaty, and he needed the meds soon, he knew that. "About three Med-X, please," he ordered.  
"Oh... sure," Daisy answered, a little surprised that it was merely that. Med-X wasn't particularly a drug to get high off of. It helped with physical pain. Jet was for mental pain.  
She grabbed under the countertop and pulled out the requested amount, naming the new price of 162 caps. Tyler counted every single one in front of her after he pulled out a stash from his rucksack. After the transaction was completed he immediately used one of the painkillers, gently pressing the needle into the skin of his arm after pulling off the little plastic cap over it.

Daisy appeared to be arguing with herself whether to ask about the pain the boy was in, but she had a feeling she'd see him more often, thus left this topic for some other time. "What's your name, boy?" she asked, as he put away the drugs and opened the pack of cigarettes.  
"Tyler," that relaxed stare was back, his hands not shaking lightly as they had done before. His wide smile almost made her join him, seeing the adorable tooth gap.  
"Well then, Tyler, I'll be seeing you around. I'm Daisy by the way."  
"Nice name... Daisy. Sounds like it had been given before the war." His eyes seemed unfocused and his head hung a little lower, before it suddenly snapped up again, and he said goodbye, leaving the ghoul woman with her unspoken questions.

"What an odd boy."

* * *

"Still no clients?" Hancock asked as he walked over to a bottle of whiskey on the cupboard, opening it to take a few big gulps. "That why you come up here and bother me? You know I got important mayoral stuff to do."  
MacCready huffed. "Sure. These important duties to get high and drunk."  
The man shrugged as he sat back down on the sofa across from the sniper, where he had been sitting on before.  
"What can I say, it's hard work."  
MacCready sighed. It wasn't like he didn't have enough caps right now. But just drinking himself blind in Goodneighbor wasn't the most ideal break he could think of. It would be nice to have some more excitement soon. "Anything happen today?" The merc took the offered bottle of alcohol and sipped a little.  
The ghoul thought for a bit, before remembering: "Ah, yes, someone new came to town again. Looked totally lost, but had the guts to talk back at Finn."  
"Not that that is hard to do," MacCready leaned back against the sofa and stretched his tense limbs.  
"Considering he was about a head shorter and looked half his age, I would say it wasn't so bad," a smile crept over the mayor's face and he appeared to enjoy the short memory.  
"He looked as high as I am."  
"So what, he's a junkie."  
"You might see for yourself if he decides to visit. There is something about him that I find entertaining."

As if on queue, Fahrenheit, who had been waiting outside to guard the door, opened the door and announced: "Hancock, there's the boy wanting to see you."  
The mayor grinned into MacCready's direction knowingly, and told her to let him in.  
Soon after Tyler walked in, looking around the room as if he was visiting an old pre-war ruin and interested in it's history.

"Well, when we're speaking of the devil," Hancock laughed, standing up to properly greet the boy. A hand was heavily set on his shoulder, but the boy didn't budge in the slightest. "And? What do you think of this humble town?"  
"Feels like home," he admitted. Piper looked displeased about that answer, most likely thinking that Hancock was already a bad influence on him.  
"If you're already here, I might as well introduce you to a dear friend of mine."  
The ghoul turned to gesture to MacCready, who was currently drinking out of the big bottle like no one was watching him; something he had assumed, before he heard his name being mentioned and he quickly pulled the glass away from his mouth. He looked at Hancock questioningly, not really feeling like talking to a child right now as he was trying to get drunk. But instead of Tyler speaking up, it was a female voice, one MacCready had heard before.  
"MacCready, huh? The merc making bloody caps," she huffed, her arms crossed over her chest out of repulsion by his work, that clearly went against her morals. The man only smiled and replied sassily: "That the title of your article you're finally willing to write about me, angel?"  
Before the tension could get any stronger, the mayor of Goodneighbor chimed in: "C'mon, let's relax. You two can take a seat, have a drink."  
Tyler took that as his cue to sit down on the sofa on which Hancock had sat before, across the merc, who observed the young man carefully. He seemed pretty young, sure. But he must be older than 18 at least.  
"How old are you?" MacCready asked, bottle of whiskey leaning on his thigh.  
"229 years," he answered, rummaging through his backpack he had placed on the floor before him. Piper sat down next to him, looking like she was starting to relax for the first time that day; or forcing herself to take it easy. She didn't seem to think it was a joke. This boy was in no way over 200 years old, or the most well-preserved ghoul he had ever seen.  
Hancock brought some beer to the table for his guests and finally seated himself as well. It had been starting to make MacCready a little anxious to see his friend walk around all the time.  
"Yeah, sure," the merc huffed, not liking to be lied to so obviously. Or at all, actually. He glared at the boy. No matter how old, liars were all suckers undeserving of his respect in his book.  
But the reporter-girl interfered, throwing her head back and laughing at MacCready's reaction: "Yes, he actually seems to be from before the war! I wouldn't believe it myself at first, but... I mean look at him! And if you ask the right things, he might answer a few questions."  
"Doesn't matter if he is from before or not," MacCready was honestly too bored to inquire a few answers he would have to make up the questions for, "he is here now."  
Piper took one of the beers, but struggled a little with opening it; she didn't want to use the edge of the coffee table standing between them in case of damaging it. Tyler held out his hand, and she handed it to him. "I think I haven't introduced myself yet," the boy commented and grabbed a second beer, using the head of the second one to open Piper's bottle. The two men on the couch were listening, and waiting for Tyler to continue and finally introduce himself, but he only gave his friend the bottle back and opened his bag to search for something inside once again.   
"Uh, you gonna tell us?" MacCready sounded impatient. This conversation was taking too long, and seemed endless.  
The boy finally pulled out a bottle of rum from his rucksack, and held it towards Hancock: "I hope you like rum. Haven't found many of these out in the Commonwealth yet," his head turned to the sniper, eyes focused for a short moment as if he was awake and answered: "I'm Tyler."

Over the span of a few hours, Tyler had become a lot more talkative, his smile reached his eyes, and he generally appeared more at ease and attentive.  
Piper had finished about four beers, MacCready was working his way down to the bottom of the whiskey bottle, while Hancock and Tyler were guzzling down the rum, another whiskey and lastly a bourbon.  
The mayor was impressed by how the boy could hold his liquor so well, but even he looked about to fall over. It must've been about 4 am, and they all had spend their time talking, laughing and occasionally shooting up in Hancock's case. "Blue, I think we should find a place to crash soon," Piper leaned back against the sofa, rubbing her dry eyes.  
"Hotel Rexford should have an available room," Hancock advised.  
"One moment, I still got a thing to ask," Tyler looked like he was struggling to keep himself straight up even while sitting down. "MacCready, you a merc, right? You still for hire?" Piper groaned, as if already disliking the idea of traveling with the sniper, and MacCready didn't blame her. He sat up a little taller, and nodded: "Yep, 250 for my services."  
Tyler grabbed a caps stash from his bag, and began counting, while the others continued talking a little more, a lot calmer than before as it was reaching the end for their little party. It seemed like he was struggling to find enough caps, to MacCready's discomfort, if Tyler's desperate attempt to dig a few caps from the many pockets on his pant's wasn't an indication. But he seemed to find enough in the end, and placed the pile of today's currency on the coffee table.  
Piper chimed in: "Tyler, we still need caps for ammo, or food, or water!" He only told her calmly that they would find a way to get to caps again, "one way or another". She started to believe that this was one of the boy's favourite sayings, and it wasn't all too unlikely. It gave off a mysterious vibe, something that might happen - bad or good - depending on the circumstances. And the Vault Dweller appeared to live in the moment, striking when he found it needed, like when Finn was threatening the two of them.  
"Let's go, I'm ready," MacCready got up and gently padded Hancock's shoulder, silently thanking him for having had them tonight.  
Tyler got up swaying a little and held out his hand for Hancock to shake. "It was nice meeting you, Hancock. And thanks for the drinks. Whenever I find some more alcohol or chems out there, a couple of jets or bottles might come your way every now and then." The ghoul shook the extremity with a firm grip. "I'll see you soon. And don't get yourself killed out there. There aren't many I can drink myself under the table with."  
Tyler chuckled and walked to the door at which his two companions were waiting at.

The sniper thought this was going to be a wild ride. And it would bring a lot of fun with it.

A reporter, a father and sniper, and a delirious teen.


	2. Teen awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready isn't sure why his thoughts keep drifting to the man's body. He is not gay, never was. He loves Lucy so much still. But the day keeps on getting weirder, with him slowly feeling sympathetic towards this adorable moron.  
> Only to have the day end in a big, bloody mess.

"Chhrrhr"

"Chrrrrrch"

MacCready huffed and rolled over, trying to somehow form the unyielding pillow to fit over both his ears. He didn't mind being awake at an early hour. He had to get up earlier before. But this damn snoring was driving him crazy, and he couldn't at least doze for a little longer! After the spontaneous party yesterday, Piper, Tyler and him had gone to the Rexford Hotel to crash there. Leaving Goodneighbor tired and intoxicated was a death sentence.  
So now the sniper was laying on the double bed, duster and hat removed to lean on a chair in the corner, awake, and suffering the wrath of a snoring boy. Piper was laying next to him, her also having only removed her coat and hat like him. He wondered how she didn't wake up from it, but maybe he was the only light sleeper in their group.

"For god's sake, Blue! Be quiet already!" a female and irritated voice demanded. MacCready sat up, surprised to find her conscious after all. She was leaning up on her elbow to throw her paperboy cap at him, and the throw was perfect; hitting Tyler right in the face. He watched closely, seeing if his new boss would stir, give any signs to show he was alive if not for sawing dream wood.  
Nothing. He continued snoring.  
"How does he sleep so deeply?"  
Piper turned her head to him, shrugging. "Ever since we traveled together, which wasn't all too long ago, he just... doesn't wake up, at all! I swear we were once sleeping in an abandoned house. I was taking watch," she positioned herself to now face the sniper, her voice becoming lower, "when suddenly a couple ferals ran in through the door!"  
MacCready's eyes widened: "Don't tell me he didn't..."  
"He didn't wake up! All he did when the feral grabbed his arm was to throw that thing back against the wall. He just rolled over and continued to sleep," the reporter was smiling, as if it was hilarious, and it seemingly was to her, "If I hadn't been so scared about us getting eaten alive, I would probably have started laughing at that scene."

MacCready huffed, shaking his head. That is just dangerous! "I guess at least he's getting enough rest... but doesn't let us sleep at all!" The merc raised his voice, then got off the bed and walked over.

He heard the creaking of the bed behind him, and soon Piper was next to him, holding a can of purified water. She put her index finger before her lips, signing him to keep quiet. The curiosity he felt convinced him to do so. The woman gently set the can on top of Tyler's forehead, and walked back to the backpack to retrieve more items to stack on it. He didn't think it would work. He would surely wake up once he moved and all would come crashing down.

But Robert didn't particularly mind that. So he took the little can of beans and carefully placed it on the can. It stood.

The two were trying to hold back their laughter after they've managed to add a couple more cans of water, Fancy Lad Snack Cakes and a box of Blamco Mac n' Cheese. "He really doesn't move, does he?" Mac asked without looking at Piper, not able to turn away from this spectacle.

Before she had the chance to answer, the PipBoy suddenly went off, playing _I dont want to set the world on fire_ in a rather low volume; about the same noise they made while talking. But the boy's eyes opened nonetheless, a groan escaping him as he moved to sit up. His reporter friend called out: "Blue, wait!" But it was too late. The small stack they managed to construct fell down, luckily mostly on his lap.

MacCready opened his mouth already to explain their little prank, expecting the other to become angry at such a rude awakening. A futile attempt, with Tyler just mumbling happily "Hm, breakfast", before taking the box containing his favourite snacks from his lap. Piper snorted and turned away, her laugh now free and loud. She walked to the small bathroom that was connected with their rented room, and closed the door behind her.

MacCready was not sure what to think. Was his boss an idiot? Or really optimistic? Oh wait, both the same thing nowadays. Still... 

He watched him open the box and fish out a cake, his eyes seeming to shine at the thought of food. He hadn't seen this look very often, and certainly not for something like this. Maybe when someone got away from an encounter with a deathclaw. Or when finally shooting the mini nuke out of the hand of a Supermutant Suicider.

He was staring, and once catching himself doing so, quickly turned his gaze away from the boy's smile, the more defined muscle he had on his arms, the sharp edges his shoulders seemed to have. _Whoo.. pretty warm in here all of a sudden._ He opened the window and shutters, letting the cool morning air in. The sun was starting to rise, colouring today's clouds a pink hue accompanied by the usual blue sky.

"Hm, -ou wan- thome?" Tyler asked, apparently with his mouth full, because he didn't understand shit. "What?"  
In response, he only padded the space next to him on the couch, the box of cakes sitting on the cushion propped next to him. MacCready sat down, ignoring the fact that the other was naked down to his boxers. 

_Unbelievable, a kid like him still looking stronger than me._ Mac attempted to get his attention on something else. Maybe Piper's body. A normal physique, not too short or tall. Urgh, it sounded like he was just listing off facts in his head!

He grabbed a can of water. He was **not** going to be jealous of some younger man's random genetics! Let alone there was no reason for jealousy in the first place. Yeah, he totally wasn't jealous; he is awesome!  
Tyler stood up and stretched his arms out, his spine seemingly cracking itself back into place as he leaned back a little to shake out the tiredness that still laid in his bones. With the perfect view of an ass right in front of Mac's face."Woah," the sniper chuckled, "200 years of age already catching up to you, old man?"  
Tyler yawned, looking around for his clothes. "More like I'm just starting to live." He found them near the window. It was a rather calm party yesterday, but that didn't mean one would remember everything– especially after having indulged in the amount of alcohol like he had. And so a few items were strewn about. What he found were his camouflage pants.

MacCready was about to comment on his carelessness, when a loud voice coming from outside interrupted him: "Well, good morning up there, Tyler. Giving all of us a show aren't you?"

Hancock. The merc walked over to see what the ghoul wanted, but realized it was a mistake the moment he saw the man's black eyes; something mischievous glinting in them.

"Oh, Robert! Good to see you there, too. You two lovebirds sleep well?"

"Yeah, 'n yo–"

" **We slept fine, in different beds, Hancock**!" No shame from either sides just now!

He threw the shutters shut and retreated to the bed to grab his things. "C'mon, boss. Let's get out there already! You paid me to shoot, and not sit around and play _babysitter_."  
"... I suppose," came the quiet response. And Mac didn't like how it sounded. Had he been too rough just now? Oh god, why did _he_ _care_?! He didn't, matter of fact. He still couldn't turn around to face the kid, and see how his expression looked.

* * *

A sunny day. Real quiet. It was warm, too hot actually. Rarely wind was blowing by, and if it was, it felt like a warm fart against his face.  
MacCready and Tyler were walking around the Commonwealth somewhere in nowhere. He knew they were past the bridge leading north, the one nearest Goodneighbor.  
Piper had excused herself after they just exited the town, saying something about taking care of her sister in Diamond City. His boss had offered bringing her there, in case of an ambush, or other dangers hiding...everywhere, really. But she declined, saying he needed to keep doing his work, utilising the hired gun he had bought just yesterday (she still seemed salty about Tyler "wasting" caps).

Tyler was not much of a talker. It wasn't that he was shy, MacCready thought, he wouldn't care about what others thought of him; and it was exactly that which kept his mouth shut to not spill useless words that were not going to be remembered anyway.  
The sniper held his weapon in a relaxed grip, but his caution was still there.

They must've been walking for about an hour, maybe more. His feet were already hurting though. The heat in the air caused him to sweat, and the friction created by his sweating feet against worn out leather still hurt. He needed new one's soon. Added to that was the general sweating of his entire body. It was highly uncomfortable with his hair sticking to his forehead, and he didn't even want to take off his hat, expecting that it looked about the same there.  
He focused his attention on the young man before him. The white sleeveless shirt showed darker spots on his back and under his arms, with the heavy backpack hanging lower than intended; that thing might as well tear soon. But ha, he wasn't the only one suffering! But what caught his interest even more was the way the sweat on his body, his shoulders and rather defined arms, seemed to glisten in the sun. He felt the urge to feel the muscles underneath the smooth skin. He wondered how heavy that backpack really was. It didn't seem to hinder Tyler's movement at all.

It was not that thought to pull him out of his trance though. He suddenly was aware of some notes being played, those of a harmonica. Tyler was blowing into the instrument, playing something he hadn't heard in a long time. Something sad, or dangerous.. miserable. So despite his fear of being heard by any irradiated monster lurking around, he didn't stop his boss, but rather listened to this familiar tune.

His feet followed with more ease now, and his gaze was shifted lower to see the boy's baseball bat dangling off of his makeshift holster attached to his belt. The holster could be fastened with a button, for easy access in case of having to grab the weapon. _That's.. pretty smart._ He wondered if he had fixed this up.

After a while, Tyler asked: "Beautiful day, isn't it?" The music stopped, and Mac looked up to see Tyler stashing the harmonica away in his pant's pocket. His back was still turned to him.  
He struck such a confident pose, with his hands set on his hips, and turned around. This innocent smile was back on his face, and his voice cheery. It somehow affected MacCready's mood and he couldn't help but smile back.  
"Yes, it is. If it weren't for this damn heat," he answered. He wasn't sure what was funny about his statement, but the other chuckled and continued walking. _Is he making fun of me?_ The thought did not sit well with him.

A sudden cry in a short distance let them both draw their weapons, both on high alert. Tyler ran in the direction of the noise, in the direction of **danger**. "Boss, wait, we should make a plan before–" Mac tried to warn him, but before saying what he felt like he needed to say, he realized how ridiculous that would have been.  
There was a little girl, running from a few radroaches. Maximum of four. Sure, in hoards and with no weapons it would be disgusting to battle them. For a kid this would turn deadly, with all the noise they made attracting more creatures. Tyler seemed to take this very seriously though. The sniper watched his boss run up to those little fuckers, and swing at them so they flew off far into the distance. Three of them were gone.  
The girl, who had watched the scene play out a little, had lost footing and stumbled over some old car tire. She just sat in the middle of it, curled up and waiting for the last roach to hurt her, when Tyler just... unorthodoxically grabbed it, and threw it off to somewhere. Like, Mac knew they weren't dangerous if one knew what they were doing, but he still wouldn't want to touch them. They're fucking gross! And what a throw this must have been, too. Mac whistled in surprise.

Tyler turned back to the girl and put his baseball bat back in its holster. His face showed the usual relaxed and trustworthy smirk, the one that exposed the gap between his front teeth (the one MacCready may or may not have thought of as adorable). The young man crouched down to the height of the girl, still being an arms-length away and asked: "Are you alright?"  
She nodded lightly, uncertain if the two strange men would be any danger to her. Slowly, Tyler extended his arm toward her, holding his hand out. It took a few seconds, but she held onto the Vault-Dweller's hand to be pulled out of the rubber tire. MacCready wondered if he was good with children. Wouldn't be all too surprising with his childish demeanor.

The sniper looked around to make sure nothing was creeping up on them. Maybe this was a good point to take a break. He could use some Nuka-Cola.

"I'm Tyler, what's your name?"  
"Ronja."  
"And what are you doing out here all alone, Ronja? Are your parents around here somewhere?"  
Mac looked over when she didn't respond at first. Tears had collected in her eyes, and her brows furrowed and the mention of her family.  
And then she started crying. The merc could do without that with all this heat going on.  
"M-mommy told me to run wh-when there were some mutys. I-I don't know where she i-is!" The crying turned to bawling, and he rolled his eyes. Tyler on the other hand put his hand on her shoulder gently, promising that they would get her mother back.  
"Boss, one moment, please?" Mac interrupted, and the other got up, but did not yet walk over, misunderstand the silent command for him to be quiet about what was to be said next; so the sniper roughly pulled him a couple feet away from Ronja.

"You do know her mother might as well be dead already, right?" he whispered.  
"How do you know?"  
"I don't, okay? But what I do know is that she has to go somewhere safe first. She doesn't have to see her own mother's dead body in case we do find her," Mac reasoned. And it worked. Tyler looked back to Ronja, then back to him and nodded. "Yes, you're right. But we should go look for the mother once we got her to some safe place."  
Not the merc's wish, but he was to listen to his boss.

"Let's take a small break. Ronja, would you like to have something to drink?" Tyler already took off his backpack and searched for a bottle of Cola, which he gave the girl. She took it gratefully after the Vaultie opened it.

* * *

They had rested for a little. And Tyler took that time to question Ronja a bit, asking where she lived, and if there still was a father to take care of her. In short: They now had to travel to Tenpines Bluff. The reason as to why the kid was out with her mother in the first place remained unknown for now.  
MacCready used the break to dry himself off a little; taking off any piece of clothing was out of the question, every layer could save his life. Which made him wonder as to why Tyler wasn't wearing any sort of armour. Not even leather. With him fighting close-combat, it would be the first thing to be concerned about - despite him being very strong. Even his body couldn't stop bullets!  
On the way to the settlement up north they had to pass Bedford Station. Tyler claimed he had cleaned the path a while ago with Preston Garvey, the goody-two-shoes of the Minutemen. And he trusted that, but one never knew if anything new crept up, holed up in the wagons, maybe.  
Still, MacCready felt like asking a few questions that had bothered him:  
"Boss, why don't you wear any... protective armour?"  
The young man was holding Ronja's hand, the other gripping the baseball bat, that was still a little stained from the radroach blood. He didn't look at him when he responded with the probably dumbest answer he could have expected: "Haven't been hit yet."  
Not that there was not any truth behind it, seemingly, but "That doesn't mean you won't ever get hurt! You probably just had luck."  
Tyler just shrugged. And it bugged MacCready. It bugged him that it was bugging him. There was no reason to care; if Tyler wanted to get himself get killed, hey, sure. He warned him... but still he felt like next time they passed a proper shop, he would persuade him to buy something to protect himself.

The three of them were walking past a wagon near the little cabin. MacCready walked behind them. There were some odd sounds of mechanical footsteps against dirt, and the sniper was about to tell them to hide, when Tyler stopped walking, a railway spike inches before his face, imbedded in the steel of the wagon. The sound destroyed the seldom peaceful atmosphere they just had had, and the world already looked darker and monochrome to the sniper. Keeping one's cool.

He heard his boss yell out for the girl to run behind the wagon and hide until they told otherwise, and she was quick to follow the order.  
His own attention was focused on the Utility Protectron and searching for cover, his eye looking through the scope for better accuracy while walking backwards to the wagon as well, breathe held in to pull the trigger, until he heard a small cry next to him.

It was like watching the scene in slow-motion, a feeling of dread spreading in his stomach, making him lose the very thing he didn't want to lose: his cool.  
Tyler had taken one step closer to the damn machine, when his body was pushed back by the force of the first railway spike entering his shoulder, and pinning him to the train. His eyes didn't betray any fear yet, just the pain, annoyance even. He still held onto the bat in his right hand, a futile thing, as it was the now less mobile arm. The blood had splattered an almost perfect rose onto his body, but the sweat was already smudging the dreadful image from the sniper's head and Tyler's body. He attempted to pull the spike out, but his fingers slipped on the blood running down the wound and collecting on his hand. The second spike brought the world back to its true speed and color, now everything going way too fast for MacCready. The spike had hit the left side of his neck. The screams following couldn't even be called "screams" - they were more of a gurgling and groaning, with more of the red liquid running down not only his neck, but out of his mouth.  
The mercenary got his shit together, had to, to prevent the next spike going through Tyler's head.  
He lifted his rifle again, and without hesitation pulled trigger after trigger, aiming at the dumb machine's head. It just wouldn't go down! He heard another couple spikes hit metal, one more cry. He was getting desperate, feeling like he couldn't do anything, except watch his boss getting killed by a Protectron. He aimed anther shot at the machine's head, when suddenly the whole thing exploded. MacCready looked down at his gun to see what lucky mod had given him this miracle, but the screams of other people and their footsteps getting closer made him run over to Tyler, standing in front of him protectively as if he wasn't about to kick the bucket any second.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We're here to hel- General!" Preston fucking Garvey walked closer to the dying man, inspected the damage, then turned to his fellow Minutemen and barked orders. Something about Stimpaks, and getting someone to remove the oversized nails.  
MacCready could only stare, stare at Tyler's hazy eyes, stare at the spike in his torso, his shoulder... his throat.  
"R.. Ron...ja," his amber eyes focused on the taller companion, more blood flowing out of his mouth with every word being pushed past his lips.

He immediately turned around to look for her, make sure she was okay; that this hadn't just been for nothing.  
She was crouching down, her hands on her ears behind the wagon. As if that could keep the danger, the horrible things away. A childish belief he had discarded early in life. MacCready sat down next to her, not saying anything. He felt the need to cover his ears, too. The last time he had felt this way was when Lucy got ripped apart by ferals right in front of him. Not that he had done so. He had faced reality, and gotten out with Duncan. And even now he forced his shivering hands to keep still.  
The little girl noticed his presence, looked up at him with teary eyes, and hugged him tightly. He wrapped an arm around her.

Despite dying, the first thing Tyler asked about was the kid. The kid that he didn't even know. The kid that might as well be nothing to him. He cared too much.

He cared too much for others,

and not enough about himself.


	3. Brotherhood of Jerks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery for Tyler after that attack last time. Naaaaasty machine. And before they continue on their way, Tyler reveals something about himself that he'd rather not have shown.  
> Then MacCready and him travel through the Commonwealth, meeting people they would like to not have met. The merc cannot help but feel rather impressed about Tyler's honesty and total lack of obedience for the Brotherhood.

MacCready was not sure how to feel about what had happened five days ago.

He felt shocked for different reasons. Firstly, there was Tyler, who had almost died under his watch. The way he struggled to take each breath, and how the blood shone such a vibrant red against his then pale skin, had made him panicked. It had made him feel like he was about to lose something important, like his toy soldier, despite his boss practically being a stranger to him! He understood how braindead he sounded himself, but the sheer fear had been there, if he wanted to believe it or not.  
That was the other part that shocked him: having been shocked and in fear of being in fear. Because he had always kept his calm after... her. He had always been in control of the situation or simply had not given a single shit; except with the matter of Duncan, for whom he was doing everything he could. But now he had given a shit. About someone other than Duncan, or himself.

After the Protectron had finally been destroyed, the Minutemen had shown up out of nowhere, seemingly, bringing them to the Starlight Drive-In, which had better medical resources than the other settlements the General had had helped -- great his boss hadn't mentioned that, with some more potential threats due to him fucking with whatever order there was in the Commonwealth by being the leader of an influential group. The girl had been offered to be brought back to her home, but she had refused, demanding to travel with Tyler.

Now MacCready was sitting in the infirmary, that had been built near the workstation-shed, in an old wooden chair, staring at these wooden walls decorated with paintings of beaches, or farms. And he felt kind of... peaceful. Despite it sounding contradicting at first, with infirmaries being connected more to death than life out here, but all in the little house was clean, as much as it could get: the sheets looked washed and smelled of soap (despite having one or two stains on it), the floors looked swept, and somehow it didn't smell of miserable death.  
Seemingly people had reached a great thing here: a safe haven. And Tyler apparently was responsible for this. Maybe he could get Duncan here, have him live in the best infirmary the General of the Minutemen had built. But he knew this was a stupid idea. There were too many dangers here. One wrong move, and the Institute might kidnap and swap him out with some insulting double.

So all he could do now was wait for his boss to wake up while Ronja was running around somewhere.

It was warm again, and the sun's rays shone through the glassless window, right onto Tyler's face. It was quiet in here, for the occasional talking going on outside.

* * *

_He hadn't felt the peace and quiet surround him like this in quite a while. It was a sunny day that was turning to evening, and children were running around the streets of Sanctuary Hills. The adults were watching the little ones, some already calling them home for dinner._

_But this scenery was not what made him feel this way. It was the picnic blanket, the close friends around him listening to their self-made music, his guitar, and Sam._

_The strings felt hard under his fingers, and he had been playing for a while, making the tips hurt. But it was okay, because he was playing for Sam. Sam's smile was making his day brighter, always. And Sam loved hearing him play._

_"Ey, Stehli, get your ass over here! The beer doesn't drink itself!"_

_Tyler looked around, not seeing Sam next to him anymore, but rather next to the cooler, having called him over. So he got up, dropping the guitar. He tried to ask Sam something, but by the time he opened his mouth he forgot what it was. Let alone, his throat felt so dry he couldn't get a tone out._

_Combat boots, leather jackets, guitars. Something smelled familiar, but he couldn't tell what it was._

_The day was turning to night, but it was getting brighter and brighter around him. His senses were betraying him, but he didn't make anything of it._

_His ears heard himself playing guitar. But he wasn't playing._

_He didn't make anything of it. He took a first hearty swig of the beer. A lump formed itself in his throat, and he had to cough. But whatever was in his esophagus was only slipping down further, and the beer, somehow hot, dripped into his lungs. He heard people continue to talk around him, as if he wasn't suffocating._

_Dark edges formed around his vision. Sam appeared before him, and he calmed down for a moment, knowing that when he was here, all would be fine._

* * *

MacCready had fallen asleep for a little, apparently. The rays of the sun hadn't moved much yet, so his nap couldn't have been that long.

And how could one really sleep when an angry reporter stomped into the infirmary like she owned the place and started throwing around accusations?

"How the hell did this happen?! I leave him under your watch for ONE day, and you almost got him killed! 250 caps my ass!" Piper was fuming. Half-rightfully so.  
"Oh, what?" MacCready wouldn't accept all these insults, "You seriously think I was trying to get him killed? It's not my fault he wasnt wearing any fu- goddamn protection!"  
"And now it's his fault, too? MacCready, I swear I will feed you to the next Deathclaw we pass!" She yelled, and the next statement made even him feel hurt for Tyler: "If you haven't realized, Tyler is not something one would call 'smart'."

Sure, he knew Tyler wasn't the brightest. Saw it in the way he acted, heard it in the way he talked; there had been this unmistakable "I'm a moron" vibe. But what he didn't have in intelligence, he made up with luck. The Minutemen having shown up when they did, his boss surviving the attack–all had turned out alright in the end.

The merc was about to defend Tyler, for god knows what reason, when he heard movement next to him, then a cough. He turned his head and stood up, excitement about his boss finally waking up again flowing through his veins.  
His amber eyes looked cloudy for the first few seconds he opened them, then something fierce washed the tiredness away. "Fucking damnit," he cursed under his breath, "it wasn't real."

Before MacCready or Piper could do anything, the still healing man sat up, revealing his shirtless torso covered in bandages, and got off the bed. He didn't appear bothered by being mostly exposed; Mac also didn't mind, but... was that a light six-pack?  
"Jeez, Tyler, lie back down! You'll tear a stitch," Piper warned him, holding out her hands in an attempt to calm him. A nice try, even MacCready thought that. Because Tyler's clenched fists were trembling in what appeared to be anger. What he was so angry about, the sniper didn't know. Maybe he had heard Piper's rant.  
"I don't care," he responded, his voice sounding strained and hoarse– the doctor here had warned him that his voice might sound like that for a while, until his vocal chords fully recover.

"What's got you so mad anywa–" MacCready was being interrupted: "Med-X. Just..," Tyler didn't look at them as he stomped to the door, picking up his bat standing next to it, "have some ready when I come back!" With that demand he left the infirmary.

The reporter looked at him, and Mac stared back, confused and surprised about this outburst just now. The two didn't need to say a word, and followed him quickly.

Against all common sense MacCready thought Tyler had, he was running through the little settlement, surprisingly not catching the attention of many of its settlers, and also not bleeding, yet.

Tyler was not fast, so catching up to him wasn't a hard task, but something hindered the two from getting too close; there was something dangerous radiating off of the shorter body. Something that could turn violent if being poked in any way.

It was maybe five minutes away from the Starlight Drive-In, down the road leading near the Rotten Landfill, out of people's sight. Tyler hadn't taken notice of his friends' presence yet.  
Probably the very thing his boss had wanted, they were not doing; staying back.  
It wasn't nice to see him like this. It was awful, and left an odd and heavy weight in his stomach. _I gotta let him do this._   
Now the only thing bothering him was that Tyler was walking around barefoot on this God-awfully hard and probably hot asphalt.

His senses perceived a threat before his body even registered it itself, and he stood with his gun raised as a pack of Molerats appeared. Out of the corner of his eye he registered Piper grabbing her pistol, but he gently put his hand on hers. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head - which wouldn't be all too unlikely. "Let us let him do this. Whatever's got him so worked up may calm down once he did this," he whispered. Even though the reporter didn't look pleased with this idea, she did whisper back: "Are you serious? What if he get's himself hurt?" "These are Molerats, Piper. I would step in too if there was a radscorpion, or a Deathclaw, but there isn't. He's gotta do, what he's gotta do. We step in if it gets dangerous... you grabbed the Med-X he wanted, by the way?"

Tyler felt the rage course through his system, through his veins. Through his very being. And he couldn't hold back any longer! He will need to do some explaining once he was all calm again. _Ha, as if that would even happen on its own! I am as dependent as an addict._

The hot cement underneath his bare feet was a comforting pain, physical pain that grounded him to this world. His vision was getting narrower. The only thing he focused on were these DAMN FUCKING MOLERATS! One already came running to him, and he swung his bat sideways, throwing the thing a few meters away, a small hole in its torso thanks to the nail in his favoured weapon. The thing didn't move for a few seconds before limping over again, but he wasn't paying attention to that pathetic attempt to fight anymore.  
The anger only got worse. _Yeah, I got all my shit under control, DON'T I?_ The next fucking creature ran over, and a hearty swing down on its head was all it took to smash both its head and the baseball bat.

MacCready couldn't really process what he was seeing. It was as if everything in Tyler had gone absolutely animalistic, every move was fuelled by hot anger... and the sniper himself was feeling a little warmer himself while watching. He could see Tyler's muscles flexing whenever he swung his bat, and he hated how in a situation like this, his thoughts drifted to the realm of naughty behaviour. His eyes were so lively now, not tired. And for god's sake, **how strong was he** (He wondered if Tyler was able to carry him... in case of an emergency and him not being able to walk, of course)?  
He was glad the two of them were hiding behind a car next to the street. Who knew if Tyler knew friend from fiend at the moment?

MacCready watched with growing horror, as his boss just crushed what was left of the bat in his hands, a couple of the bigger molerats jumping on him, throwing him to the ground. The one on his leg was thrown off easily, while for the other he rolled over, so the thing was underneath him, pinned down by one of Tyler's big, manly hand- Jesus, this was getting out of control.  
Punch after punch was delivered to its head, violent enough to go through its ugly teeth. Blood collected on the boy's hand, as he didn't stop hitting the already dead being until another clammed down on his injured shoulder. He fucking _growled_ in response and pulled it off, grabbing the molerat's jaws and pulling it apart.

Mac couldn't watch more.. but he had to. He had to make sure all this went well. He heard Piper gag next to him, and he looked at her. "Oh god, this is just... overkill."

He looked back over to Tyler. The little monsters were all fleeing, seemingly, as the boy roared after them, hands, shoulder and part of his face bloody: "NAH? WOLLT IHR NOCH MEHR IHR KLEINEN FOTZEN? COME BACK! (Huh, want some more you little cunts?)" The broken, and deeper voice wasn't helping Tyler look a little less like an animal right now. Piper stammered: "Did he just.. scream these molerats into running off?" She appeared surprised and impressed, and MacCready felt like he had the same expression on his face as her.

These feelings of slight amusement at seeing those little shits flee quickly subsided as he saw Tyler fall to his knees. He ran over to him, disregarding any fear of being caught despite the boy probably wanting to be alone right now.

"Tyler! Are you alright?" The merc kneeled next to him, his hand on Tyler's bare back. The skin felt warm, but he could feel the other trembling. Tyler was on all fours, head pressed against the rough ground. He heard sniffles, then quiet sobs. It tore something in Mac's heart. Especially when the other just wouldn't tell him what was going on. Piper walked over as well, standing a couple feet back though to not corner her friend.

"I.. I'm sorry you had to see this. I didn't want you to see this, ever," was all Tyler said, barely above a whisper.  
"See what, boss?" He began to rub his back and his shoulders in hope to ease some of the tension in his body.  
"I'll tell you, but I need a Med-X first." MacCready searched his pockets in a useless attempt, already knowing they were empty.  
"Tyler, if you are in pain, then let us just go back to the infirmary. You're hurt," Piper requested, but the boy shook his head, slowly sitting up, searching his pants for something. MacCready watched his boss' tear-streaked face lighten up a little once he pulled out a small syringe. His trembling fingers struggled with the little cap. It seemed as if he was trying to use as little force as possible right now, and Mac couldn't help but wonder what was really going on. It didn't appear as simple as a fit of rage, when there had been no reason at all. A gun doesn't fire without someone or something pulling the trigger.

The sniper sighed, taking Med-X and opening it for the boy, and gently pushing its contents into the vein of his arm.  
Tyler looked up after a couple minutes passed, registering the little massacre he had caused, his gaze darkening even further.

* * *

The three of them had walked back to the settlement, no one saying anything, and gotten Tyler into bed to fully recover with a reopened wound on his shoulder. The bloody bandages had been replaced, and the rest of the blood cleaned from off of his face and hands.

An uncomfortable silence had now settled between the three, who were once again left alone in the small house, as no one else was hurt; and MacCready was thankful for the lack of extra ears.

"So, boss, what was that just now?" Mac wanted this talk over with. He didn't like seeing him so worried, worried about how his two companions were going to react.  
"I don't.. I can't... I don't know how to explain it," Tyler admitted.  
"It's okay, Blue, there's so many horrible things going on in the world. I'm sure we can handle it," Piper offered consolence.

He was quiet for a while, then he stammered sentences about something he didn't seem to understand himself, and MacCready saw how he tried to explain it to the best of his ability: "Before the war, I used to have these fits of rage, like you saw me have just now. I can't control it," he looked down at his hands, fiddling with the blanket he was holding, "and it would even go so far I could not remember what I did while in this... this state."  
"And the docs told me something about genetics, and that my ma had used buffout while I was still inside her. And so I just get angry sometimes, and I would hurt-" MacCready didn't break eye contact while Tyler talked, and he saw how only speaking about this pained him. It was a mix of shame, and the feeling of not being in control and thus not being able to change what weighed heavily in one's mind.

Tyler bit his lower lip, attempting to hold back the tears that were already forming in his eyes. It took less than seconds to have the first rolling down his cheek.  
The sniper looked to the reporter standing next to him, and she looked back; she was frowning.  
"Blue," she sat down on the bed, close and personal, and set her hand on his shaking shoulders, "It's fine. You didn't want to hurt anyone, and that is all that counts. And as long as you take Med-X, you don't get this, right?" Tyler didn't stop crying, but he nodded lightly.  
Mac pulled over a chair, also sitting closer to him this time and pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged. "So this is some sort of illness, or..?"  
"I think it can be more defined as a disorder," Piper commented, "I heard of people in the Commonwealth use any sorts of drugs before while pregnant, and the babies would just be... dead, or have some sort of mental disorder. So you're lucky, Blue!" She gave him a big smile, and mussed up his hair.

The boy wrapped his arms around her and pulled his friend closer, hiding his face in her shoulder. Mac didn't like how slightly jealous he felt when he held her like that, and not him. But it made sense. Piper knew her longer than him.

The rumbling of someone's stomach interrupted the peaceful silence that had settled in after that talk, and Tyler groaned: "Ugh... I'm starving."

* * *

"Mr. Tyler! You are all better now!" Ronja ran up to her hero, and he greeted her with open arms, lifting her off the ground to spin around a little. She giggled, enjoying the playtime that many parents couldn't offer nowadays; like MacCready himself. The little scene stung his heart, knowing that he might never be able to see Duncan again. Not alive at least...  
"Ronja, where is your dad? He must be worried sick by now," he set her down again and kneeled to come to about the same height as her. It was odd to watch, since his boss was the shortest of the trio- yes, even shorter than the merc. He would poke a little fun about that later. Perfect ice-breaker.  
"I didn't want to go with them. I wanted to go with you!" She exclaimed happily.  
Piper chuckled, and Mac asked: "What's so funny?"

She shrugged.  
"I guess it is a little funny to see a child so happy nowadays. Almost absurd... it's sad, really."  
MacCready nodded.

"Well, let's go back home now," Tyler suggested. And so the four of them did.

Before exiting the safety of the high fences around Starlight Drive-In, Piper handed her friend a 10 mm. He held it in his hand for a little, then looked up, as if confused.  
"You destroyed your bat, remember?"  
Mac caught the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, right. Sorry."

He didn't remember.

* * *

Days had passed since they had brought Ronja back to her father. The sight of the two being back together, the pure happiness in the man's eyes, had the sniper scoffing behind their backs. He knew he was lying to himself while thinking that he didn't care. He did. He cared so much, seeing himself in the same spot someday, with Duncan. And since he knew there most likely wasn't a possible way for him to get to that serum in time, he just... suppressed his feelings. Buried them in the soil of apathy and frustration, despite knowing how fake the thoughts his mind came up with were, what great lies he grew and tended to himself.

There was at least one problem less now. While passing some traders and a settlement, Tyler had managed to assemble some leather armour, as well as a bat made of aluminum to reduce the chance of the guy smashing his own weapon to pieces again. The armour protected his legs, arms, and chest; but his shoulders were bare due to the need to move around freely. Swinging a bat around makes that a necessity.

Now their current objective was to find out where the missing woman was. Mac had tried to reason with his boss. She was definitely dead now after so much time had passed. But the boy was too headstrong!  
Their lead brought them nearer and nearer the old Boston Airport Ruins. Ronja and her mother had apparently tried to pass the place while on their way from Nordhagen Beach. Mac wasn't sure if he was the only one in this whole story not getting why they would want to move settlements without any protection (moving houses was their damn reason!).

"Hey, look!" Tyler pointed at the giant ship in the distance, flying above their most likely destination. A big smile formed on his face, and a childlike curiosity glistened in his eyes. MacCready forced himself to look away. "Who do you think it belongs to?"  
The sniper scoffed, not stopping to have another look at this Brotherhood-monstrosity: "It's the Brotherhood of Steel's airship. It flew over the whole Commonwealth about a week ago. You were still unconscious when it did."  
Tyler caught up to his companion when realising he was being left behind, and asked: "What is that?"  
Mac raised a brow, then shook his head. _Not that surprised he doesn't know._

"They are self-named "soldiers". They had operated in the Capital Wasteland a few years back. Now they are here. And I can't help but feel like they are here to cause trouble... possibly a war."  
He turned to look at his boss: "I strongly recommend not joining up with them, whether they got good firepower or not. Their ideals speak with a gun, and oppress everyone not willing to help them, since they believe they are doing right and justice."

Tyler stopped walking again, looking up at the machine he had just been so interested in. But the other saw that he wasn't looking at the ship itself. It was like watching a looming danger now, one that might have to be fought with blood; and after watching the Vault Dweller show so much compassion towards his people, it was obvious he didn't want that to happen. _Welcome to the Commonwealth._

They soon reached the Airport, now able to see what modifications the Brotherhood had undertaken; of course they hadn't rebuild the planes, but they had cleaned the place up, possibly killed some wandering ferals. Now there was a shooting range, some stationed vertibirds and whatnot. Before the guarded entrance to the right was a destroyed building, and there were some people, both in armour and without it, either standing, or sitting on the few chairs. A line of people stood against a wall, hands bound. Someone was talking loudly, and it sounded like some sort of announcement. It appeared interesting enough for Tyler to walk over, bat hanging on his belt, to see what was going on.

"So, with the order of Elder Maxson and our code to cleanse the Commonwealth off of abominations and dangers posing as a threat towards the human race, I hereby announce the execution of Anne Ross, M-", a man in the BoS uniform was spewing the usual shit. Except now they carried out executions?!  
MacCready took a look at the one's to be executed. Ghouls, and humans. Or maybe synths? Why were they suddenly so official?  
Well, whatever the case, they couldn't be helped now- where was Tyler?

The boy had just been standing next to him. "Oh, fu-frick."

"Hey, what is going on here?" Tyler had stepped forward, right into the line of fire.  
The man seemingly didn't like being interrupted, an irritated brow moving up questioningly. "I could ask you the same, young man. You can watch, but refrain from disturbing the Brotherhood of Steel's business."  
Tyler slightly leaned his head to the side, his arms now crossed.  
"What did these people do?"  
"They pose a threat to the world, civilian, now ge-"  
"No, what did they really do?"  
Some of the soldiers began to laugh, as if it was obvious. Maybe to those having been born into this world, but Tyler didn't have this advantage.  
The man he was talking to didn't laugh, though.  
"As you can see, some of them are ghouls. Sooner or later they will attack someone, kill them. The others are synths, who work for the Institute. An organisation we aim to destroy."  
"Oh yeah? So these people haven't actually done anything yet? You basically just.. think they will at some point, and that gives you the **authorisation to kill them**?!"  
"We don't just speculate, we know they will."

Tyler looked more and more furious by the second. Mac knew it was like talking to a brick wall; same IQ level anyway.  
MacCready quickly walked over, rifle slung over his shoulder, and set his hand on his boss' shoulder. "Hey, I think we should go, boss."  
He pushed the hand off and stepped over to a woman with blonde, long hair. "You know what she did?"  
"She attacked one of our recruits while attempting to defend one of these abominations," the man gestured to a male ghoul.

MacCready saw the terrified expressions of the people lined up at the wall.  
The woman talked about had her head hanging low. He saw she had already given up.

"And you know **who** she is?"  
"We aren't playing a quiz, young man, now-!"  
" **Wrong**! She is a Minuteman. One of **my** people!" He pointed at himself with his thumb. "If all the shit you have been spewing until now holds any weight, then she probably acted out of more honour and selflessness than you ever will, protecting an innocent person from you!"

After the big secret of Tyler being the General of the newly forming Minutemen was out, a few people, even some from the BoS, gasped in shock.  
Some mumbled about whether he was lying, but most recognized the Pip-Boy, as well as the infamous honest mouth; something the sniper had learned about while his boss had been conked out, something he was witnessing now. Talking to these asshats like that, while they were armed? Insanely honest.

"Who the hell leads you radicals? I'd like to talk to them, as a fellow leader." Tyler's gaze hardened, and it didn't look like he was going to budge with his request.

The man sighed, then called a woman, also in the uniform he wore, over. "Bring the _General_ of the Minutemen to Elder Maxson and-" once again he got interrupted. "No, I am not leaving these people unsupervised, or at least not under your supervision."

After a few glances between the woman and the self-declared angel of death, both nodded, and off the woman went.

The atmosphere got less tense once Tyler switched his attention to the supposed Minuteman.  
She lifted her head, tears still running down her face.  
"Generel, thank you! Thank you so much! But how did you know I am a Minuteman?"  
MacCready was curious about that as well. "You're Ronja's mother, right?"  
The woman's eyes widened and she grabbed Tyler's shirt with her still tied wrists. Desperation laced her words: "Oh god, is she alright? Is my baby okay?"  
He gently held her hands, a soft smile curving his soft lips. "God," Mac mumbled, "this shouldn't look as adorable as it does." He instead chose to watch those assholes behind them, unsure of their next move.  
"Yes, she's okay. My partner and I found her and brought her to Tenpines Bluff. She should be safe." God, the still hoarse and slightly broken voice, now being whispered, made a shiver run down the merc's back.

"Hey, um, boss?" MacCready pulled him away by his arm, hopefully out of earshot from anyone here. "You do know that we are not out of the danger-zone yet, right? If Maxson doesn't agree with what you demand, then these people are as good as dead."  
Tyler didn't look discouraged. He thought for a moment, then whispered: "I know I am not smart, Mac. Even less when it comes to politics. But I do know that when we continue to grow like we do as an organisation, we will be a possible threat to the Brotherhood of Steel. In some way."

The merc sighed. Alright. This meeting was going to be fun.

A few minutes passed. MacCready was a little nervous. The Brotherhood is not known for dealing with matters like these with rational thinking.

And then, Maxson's entrance. The guy was wearing some expensive looking jacket, hair was cut perfectly, and his beard trimmed. The luxury of leading a dictatorship.

He walked over, a couple soldiers in power armour following close behind, and came to a stop right in front of Tyler. Mac almost had to chuckle if it weren't for the situation they were in; the height difference was astonishing. Maxson was tall, and Tyler... was not. It was like a teenage boy glaring up at his own father for not having let him go to the bar with his friends.

"I suppose you are the General of the Minutemen?"  
He stood tall and proud, looking down on Tyler with a stare that emitted disgust, but in a polite manner.  
"Yes, I am." Tyler glared up at Maxson.  
"And what can I do for you?"  
"I want you to let the Minutemen here go."

MacCready sighed, and wiped his forehead after lifting his hat a little. It was still unbearably hot. Damn summer.

"And why would I do that, after these people deliberately attacked the Brotherhood's soldiers?" Maxson crossed his arms, not seeming awfully compliant. Big surprise...  
"Oh, you mean after your soldiers deliberately attacked a ghoul, causing my people to attack yours? I dunno, maybe that's why?"  
"Hm.. boy, I don't think you understand the politics and our ideals here. You're a little too young to-" Maxson yelped quietly, as the "boy" grabbed the asshole by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down with ease. Tyler's amber eyes were seemingly shining with anger, and something mischievous.

MacCready couldn't hear the next words his boss said, as he was whispering. But whatever he had said caused the other to nod, and declare that these prisoners were now allowed to leave with the General once he was let go.

Brotherhood lackies cut the restraints on the captured. Maxson did not look pleased, but the man did nothing other than scowl at the Vaultie, who stood there, watching the scene unfold.

With his usual relaxed gaze.

His usual grin.

With this eerie aura of his.

MacCready was sure this was the beginning of something big.


	4. HalluciGen Gas is one hell of a drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy got into trouble again.  
> And this time MacCready has to wait until he comes home. And once he does it gets angsty.. then fluffy. Emotions running high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be fluff in this chapter. Not with the lovers-vibe, but the Jesus-fuck-I-like-him-vibe. Alternative name being the crush-vibe.  
> Go, Mac!

MacCready had to admit: Traveling with Tyler was great fun. They had been wandering for weeks, maybe even a month by now. And caps came in at a steady flow, new settlements were built and already existing one's expanded. He usually wouldn't be all too fond of this selfless helping others in need, but Tyler had explained to him that even the settlements earned caps- and that partly for him, and thus also MacCready.

But sometimes MacCready was being left behind in favour of some other companion his boss had forked up somewhere. He had seen him with Piper, had watched the two walk away from Sanctuary, while he had to stay there with his thumb up his ass. He was not jealous. It was just so boring.. without Tyler laughing about his sarcastic comments. Sure, half the time it seemed like the guy did not even know what he meant, but the laugh was always genuine, just like the rapid beating of his own heart.

This time he was off causing trouble with Hancock. MacCready didn't know where they went, and Preston did not, too. Either Tyler didn't want him to know so he wouldn't follow them, or he just did not tell his second-in-command for.. "Tyler reasons".  
Example of a "Tyler reason": Once they checked out an old shop with instruments, his boss had insisted on taking a couple guitars with them ("One is a bass, Mac, not a guitar!", he had almost yelled indignantly). He had not seen the boy pick either of them up yet, so he was not convinced there had been a good reason to carry these things back to Sanctuary. And another time, they came across a small boxing ring. He could get behind the reason of picking up the buffout laying strewn around there and selling it, but the other also wanted to take some of the handles and weights with him! Was the Commonwealth not straining his body enough? MacCready sure as hell knew that after a day of squatting, waiting for the perfect moment to snipe at an enemy, his legs and ass muscles hurt like crazy; maybe he was getting old? But also the weights hadn't been used yet. At least not in his presence.

Now he was sitting on a patio chair on the old driveway leading to his boss' garage, beer in hand, while his gun rested beside him on the table he had pulled out as well.

Mac told himself he was people-watching, but really, he was hoping to see someone certain again soon; to make sure that he was still alive.

_Hancock better watch out for him._

He took a large gulp of his beer, wishing this paranoia and fear away with the numbness of his third bottle. "It had been long enough.. he should be back now, wherever he went."

"Someone seems a little worried. Odd for a cold-blooded killer," Piper stepped in front of him, arms crossed, causing the sun to be blocked from his view. She was not wearing her red coat due to the heat, but had put it over her arm. She didn't look pissed off, and as far as the merc knew he had not done anything to upset her either.  
"Were you not planning on giving me this interview, angel? Now is the perfect time, while I'm on my break.  
She threw her head back and laughed: "Not in a million years, MacCready." She got a little more serious again. "I cannot wait for Tyler any longer, so tell him I went back to Diamond City, will you?"  
"Will do."

She walked off and thus MacCready was alone again.

A couple more hours passed, the sun having been hidden behind dark clouds that gradually formed. It would rain soon, the sniper was sure.  
And as he thought that, the first heavy droplets fell from the sky. He was quick to swing the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and heave the table and chair underneath the roof.

Just as he was about to enter the house to continue denying his heavy worry for Tyler, some settlers ran past, saying something about their General being back. Mac's hat could've dropped as quickly as he felt himself do a 180. He didn't waste much time and ran to the main gate in the South, excitement bubbling up inside his chest to know that his boss was finally back.

As he reached the gate, he saw a small crowd of people that had gathered to gawk as a provisioner passed the bridge with her pack brahmin. Hancock was walking next to the animal. But where was Tyler? He pushed through the crowd, eyes widening as he saw what... no, _who_ was lying on the back of the brahmin. He wanted to run over, ask John what the hell happened, but he felt like his feet were enveloped in cement blocks. Only when the ghoul called out for a doctor to come to Tyler's house did he regain his senses, and ordered the people just watching away, while he himself ran to the infirmary. The infirmary was near the middle of the settlement for strategic purposes, and actually the house to the right of the General.  
As he arrived he already saw the woman he was looking for running outside, and towards the General.

John had picked the boy up to carry him the rest of the way, as the overworked legs of the creature had slowed even more upon arriving back home. It was obvious that the mayor was having troubles carrying him, and Mac was glad that his body did not freeze up again, so he was able to help bringing him back to the house.  
On their way the doctor held the General's wrist, checking his pulse, then also tried to measure his temperature. The merc was less occupied listening to Hancock's report about what happened, but more so with how his boss, his friend, was not moving. He looked extremely pale, and when a few strands of his hair that had been covering his face stuck together due to the rain, he saw how dark the rings under his eyes were. 

He felt a sting in his chest, and his hands began to shake. _He is not dead yet. He will be fine._  
MacCready set his legs down as gently as he could on the bed, as if he suddenly was made of glass, despite knowing that could not be farther from the truth.

He moved to take off the shirt Tyler was wearing when his ears finally took in the sounds around him again. Next to the drops falling onto the roof and the static in his head, he caught the doctor saying something about bringing down his temperature. He saw Hancock open the other's pants and pull them down without hesitation. Not that the ghoul would be flustered by something like nudity. But Mac instinctively looked away, feeling like seeing something he was not supposed to see.

"I need a bowl with cold water, and a cloth, some clean water for him to drink and clean and dry clothes," the doctor ordered. Hancock was gone before the sniper had the chance to do so, leaving him to grab some sweatpants and a black shirt from the dresser next to the double bed. The room was rather small, and he felt like a hinderance to the doc who was currently using a stethoscope to listen to the boy's heartbeat. He was sure if Tyler woke up, he wouldn't be happy to see so many people in such a small space. But he also couldn't bring himself to leave the room, so he kept watching his unmoving form sprawled out on the bed.

"Hancock," MacCready started once the mayor returned with all items that had been requested. The man turned to him once placing the stuff on the small side table.  
"Yeah, Mac, before you start let me tell you something, 'cause I've seen these eyes before: Ty and I did not know what was happening at this place we went to, so don't go blaming me. Once we realised what was happening I tried to get him out of there."  
"B-but... what exactly happened?! What is happening to him right now?" He caught himself sounding desperate, and hated himself for that. Tyler would be fine, surely.  
"He is going to be alright, brother," John stated, as if he had read the man's thoughts, "I will tell you the story later, but for now we should keep calm and help the doc in case she needs something."

John was right. Not the MacCready wanted him to be, but it was the best solution. Because he felt that once he knew the story, he would be a LOT less calm. And Tyler needed him right now.

So he sat down on the end of the bed, watching him intently. He didn't know what exactly rose him out of his thoughts, this trance-like state. He had observed the doctor doing little tests to see how responsive the boy was to "external stimuli", or measured his body temperature, while Hancock wiped his forehead with the cool cloth, all that without being distracted from his own demons currently bombarding his mind with self-blame (he shouldn't have let him go alone).  
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light twitch. He stood up, excited. Hancock must have seen it as well, because he also got up and put the cloth back in the bowl.  
"Tyler? Hey, are you okay?" the sniper asked, watching his eyes open slowly and taking in their surroundings. Then the eyes looked up to the painting of a farm that sat in place of the window, and stilled there.  
"Tyl-" MacCready wanted to ask, and already attempting to step closer, when their mutual friend held him back by putting his arm in front of his chest, instead forcing him to step away. The doctor also grabbed her equipment quickly, handing the bag to him. He just took it without much thought, too angry to realise.

"Hey, what gives?!" He demanded to know, when Hancock put his finger over his lips, signing for him to keep quiet.

Suddenly his friend, his boss, began to shake, still laying on his side.  
His eyes were still open, but it did not look like he could actually see, like his mind was not there with his body. A sound similar to a strained whine left his throat as all the muscles in his body began to seize up, then relax, and seize up again.  
"We have to help him!" Mac ordered, but the doctor shook her head.  
"Someone suffering a seizure should not be held down."  
He couldn't believe it! They just... watched him violently writhe in front of them! Saliva was running down the corner of his mouth, and his fingers attempted to hold onto something in a futile struggle to stop shaking like this; he could see that he was slightly aware of the situation. He wanted nothing more than hold his hand, ground him and tell him all would be okay.

Then he flipped over onto his back, back arching, then arms and legs punching and kicking, and his irregular breathing turned to one of struggle as his spit blocked his airway.  
"Fuck," Hancock yelped and pulled MacCready further into the room, "Help me turn him to his side."  
And so he did... tried. He had to be careful about his arms, but just as he got a firm grip on his shoulders, he felt a harsh blow to his left eye.  
"SH-crap," he cursed under his breath.  
He swallowed down the other curses, and the pulsating pain in his face in favour of not having the boy drown in his own spit, and finally turned him back to his side.

It appeared like Tyler was slowly calming down, if the weaker movements of his limbs were any indication. But he couldn't stay any longer. He couldn't watch the other in this condition while his own throat seized up, and his chest hurt as if someone was constraining his heart in a vice-like grip. So he ran outside, away from this room, Hancock, the doctor, who all just looked so.. fucking **calm**!!!

He ran out into the heavy rain, and ran some more until he was outside the settlement further up North near this odd Vault. Only did he stop running away from this waking nightmare when he reached a little shack out of metal. It had been locked, but the rusted lock couldn't stand a chance against one blow with the butt of his rifle. He didn't care if anyone owned it, he needed to stay somewhere and calm down.

His chest still hurt, and his mind was consumed by many dark thoughts that kept his body on edge.

 _Is he going to be okay?  
_ _What the hell happened?  
_ _Is he going to die?  
Will I be alone again?_

He wanted to lay down, but it only made breathing more difficult. His hands were shaking, and he noticed the pain around his eye was oddly numb to him. He held his rifle in his hands, something that let him feel a little more relaxed, and sat down.

"H-how could they? He was.. he looked like death already had one arm around him, and they just... j-just all looked so fu- goddarn okay with that!"

A few minutes passed, the rain had gotten less already, and Mac's breathing was under control again, if still a bit laboured as if he had been walking up a steep hill.  
The pulsating in his left eye returned, and he was glad it was there. It grounded him in the here and now.  
Pain had helped him when he was feeling like this before. Like when Lucy...  
And after that horrible event, once he had managed to quiet Duncan in his still shaking arms, he had cried. Like now. Tears ran down his face, and he curled up in an attempt to shut out the terrifying reality of things.

* * *

MacCready rose from his unintended nap. He was not sure what exactly had woken him up, if anything at all, but he found himself in a small room. It was almost too dark to see his own hand in front of his face.  
Then there it was... a noise.  
He silently got up, hands holding his trusty rifle, and waited for whatever was creeping about outside to come in.  
The door opened, and a person revealed themselves.

Just before he pulled the trigger, Hancock's voice cut through the silence.  
"Hey, hey, don't worry. I ain't here to eat your face off."  
"Hancock? Sorry, I thought you were someone.. _-thing_ else."  
"Nah, it's fine."  
Silence. It was obvious the ghoul had more to say, and so the sniper waited.  
"Tyler is worried about you, y'know? Me, too, of course. But the first thing he wanted to know was where you were when he woke up after that little.. episode. You just ran off and were away for hours."  
MacCready looked down, chuckling darkly.  
" **He** worried about **me**? When he was the one hurt in front of me? That is so.. like him."  
"Yep," Hancock sighed, "So c'mon, let's go back. I'm sure you wanna hear this crazy story from Tyler himself."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to, but he supposed it was better to know what not to do in the future to avoid anything like that from happening again. So he nodded and stepped out of the shack, strap of his rifle back over his shoulder.

The walk was passed with casual conversational topics, nothing important. Mac didn't feel like talking anyway, especially not about that _episode_ as John called it. Neither did he want to talk about the pure hysteria he felt just hours ago, and the slowly building anger in the pit of his stomach, telling him to ask Tyler what the hell he was thinking barging around somewhere dangerous without him! The grip on the strop of his rifle tightened.

When entering the house he noticed Tyler already sitting at the kitchen table near the window with a view to a backyard garden, eating his way through a deathclaw steak.  
He was wearing the clothes Mac had picked out for him, and he felt oddly good about the choice he had made; the pants were too long, but the shirt fit him just right, flattering his muscular physique. The anger he had felt on the way back was gone at the sight of him.  
He appeared to not notice the two of them, too engrossed with listening to the radio that was blaring "Way back Home". The scene looked too innocent.

"Wow, boss, never took you for someone enjoying deathclaw," he smiled and walked over, sitting on the chair next to him, "As if fighting these beasts wasn't enough already."  
"It's not that bad once-," the boy had looked over, and all his movements stilled -even his adorable smile faded- when seeing him.  
MacCready was not sure why looked so shocked. Wasn't he happy to see him? The older man looked over to the door, where he expected the ghoul to still be standing, but it looked as if Hancock had left them alone.  
"Mac...," he almost whispered, "What happened to your eye? Jesus Christ, was that me?" His brows furrowed and his fingers subconsciously rubbed over slightly blue spots on his knuckles. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to- when did I even-?"

The sniper realised what the other must've been talking about and quickly covered his left eye, despite knowing that it was useless to hide it now.  
The plain shock and guilt in Tyler's amber eyes had rendered him next to speechless, so it took him a few seconds to regain his jumbled thoughts: "Hey, boss, it's fine. It wasn't on purpose, was it? It's nothing really." He gently took the other's injured hand and just held it, the warmth of it spreading through his entire body.

He was alive, and he was okay.

"I was more worried about **you**. Who else would pay for my drinks if you were gone?"  
The corner of Tyler's lip twitched, but he suppressed it from doing much more.  
Mac would damn well make sure the other would laugh. All to see that smile again.  
"No, really!" He held his hands up and leaned back a little, "Oh, what would I do if I didn't have someone order me to carry around two guitars through the whole Commonwealth?"  
"One is a _bass_!" The wide smile finally broke through, exposing the gap between his front teeth.  
"What's the difference anyway?"

Tyler just looked at him, then shook his head.  
When he suddenly stood up, the merc did as well before he realised he even did.  
"Where are you going?"  
"Don't worry, I am just going to get something real quick."

He walked out the door after pulling on his dirty boots, leaving Mac to listen to Travis' improved attitude, reporting on the news about a certain General of the Minutemen, who stepped on the Brotherhood of Steel's power-armoured feet.  
"This Elder Maxson surely didn't seem okay with it. Let's hope this won't turn out in disfavour of him."

* * *

Tyler had left to get some ice-cold beer from Drinking Buddy last night. MacCready was glad he hadn't stopped his boss from going outside for that. It was a little surprise, he claimed. And the sniper surely appreciated that thought. After yesterday's events nothing could beat an ice-cold beer, on the General's tab, no less.  
After drinking a couple bottles he had felt exhausted and wanted nothing else then sleep.  
During the time he had been employed by the kid he had usually slept in the guest house reserved for Piper or Nick while they were over, never wanting to step over the possibly unspoken boundaries of, for example, sharing a bed. It was not shameful; he had slept next to another man multiple times, either out of necessity from lacking beds or keeping warm during the colder seasons.  
This time he had not wanted to do it any differently, except he did. He was too happy that Tyler was back again, and alive, too. Leaving him alone with the risk of suffering a seizure again did not sit well with his conscience.  
So when his boss had offered for him to stay at his home that night, he could not deny the suggestion.

He knew he would've regretted saying "no" when he awoke the next morning. With him sleeping so close, he had rested so peacefully like he hadn't in a long time. Despite the heavy snoring. It was almost comfortable to him, signalling him he was breathing, letting him know that he was _there_. 

The sun was just rising when he got up, collecting his pants and white shirt from the top of the dresser where he had left them. On top of the furniture there were also a couple action figures, a comic book and his hat. The items belonging to Tyler, coupled with his favourite hat, just being there... it made his heart feel lighter. It felt like home. If only Duncan was here as well, enjoying the safety of the walls surrounding Sanctuary, the ability to play with kids his age. But really, it wasn't all that safe, nor did he have that opportunity. The Gunners were still on his tail for offering his work as a mercenary. And Duncan was not even strong enough to walk.

He shook his head to clear his mind from the dark thoughts. He would figure it out. He had always found a way out, and he would also do that this time; for Duncan.

Mac put on his clothes as quietly as possible, before leaving to go to the living room. He felt it would be another hot and sunny day. No clouds in sight, allowing him to observe the purple-bluish sky while waiting a little longer before he would wake Tyler's lazy ass up.

* * *

MacCready knew Tyler was a trustworthy person, albeit an odd one, but he didn't expect the parents of this settlement to let him watch over their kids to teach them swimming. Of course a couple Minutemen stayed with them to help in case of an attack from any monster lurking around.

He understood staying another or two days so he could recover properly, but giving lessons on survival? Spending his free time with work, as minor as it may seem; even though it really was a big deal. The ability to swim could save someone in the Commonwealth.  
This just showed how great he could work with children, and it left MacCready wondering again. Wondering how well he would do with Duncan.

So now they stood in front of the lake east from Sanctuary. There were about four children, three girls and a boy, ranging from the age 7 to 12, standing cluelessly around Tyler. 

"Alright, does anyone know something about swimming here?"  
No answers, just shaking heads. MacCready was watching the scene from the rock he was sitting on, cleaning his gun.  
"That's okay. Don't worry, because today I will help you learn! When I first learned swimming I had a little different help other than my parents, and we usually wore nothing but swimming trunks. Any of your parents manage to scrounge up some swimming wear?"  
"My dad got me a blue swimsuit!" a girl with brown hair chimed in, seemingly proud to own it. "I'm wearing it right now."  
"Good, then take off the rest of the clothes," he turned to the others, "while swimming with normal clothes is usually not recommendable, it won't kill you... at least not when you already can swim. So anyone who doesn't have all they need?"

Turned out everyone was ready. The children were more silent than usual. It was probably because they were nervous, Mac guessed. After all, they would do something they haven't done before. Something considered dangerous their age.

They were a couple hours in, the sun shining down stronger on him, and he felt too warm even with just his shirt he had put on earlier.  
He looked over to the kids with jealousy, able to enjoy the cool water. He could be inside and pass the time with some comics while sitting right in front of a fan, but really... he doubted that would be more fun than watching Tyler. He had taken off his pants and shirt as well, now leaving him in some black swimming trunks he must have picked up somewhere. The way his arm muscles contracted whenever he showed the children how to use the limbs in order to push forward in the water, it slowly drove Mac crazy. _Wonder if he can carry me..._  
The thought earned him the feeling of embarrassment, as if anyone could hear his thoughts. Nonetheless, his cheeks heated up.

Another hour passed before his boss finally called it a day.  
He called for the children to get out of the lake and have the Minutemen lead them back to the infirmary. His followers already knew to get them radaway; just in case. He didn't want anyone getting sick, after all. The kids said their goodbyes and thank yous and then walked off.

The sniper watched them until he couldn't see them anymore.  
Then he averted his attention back to Tyler, who was still in the water, laying on his back to just drift a little.  
"And why aren't you getting out?" MacCready set his gun down and got up, walking closer to the shore.  
Tyler just lazily lifted his head, smiling at him: "I will enjoy my free time now. C'mon, jump in!" He waved him over.

"What?! And get wet? No thanks." He shook his head and crossed his arms.  
The boy sighed, then swam back over to him, getting out of the water with too much grace for Mac's liking, water droplets just running down his still defined shoulders, arms and chest. _Damnit, he_ **must** _be using the dumbbells!_   
The other set his hands on his hips, looking up at the merc with a serious expression.  
"I could always throw you in if you want, but I am leaving you the choice to take off your shirt."

Mac huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Wow, boss. Expecting services like this free? I thought you knew me better than that!"  
"I do," he answered with a smug grin, walking to his pile of clothes and fishing out a little pouch that made clinking noises when he shook it.  
"This is yours if you manage to catch me," he announced provokingly before running up the small cliff.

"Oh, it's on, boss!" He yelled up to him, already taking off his top, followed by his pants. He may not have been wearing suitable clothing, but getting just his underwear wet was better than having all his clothes in that state.  
He soon chased after him, but even ahead of him reaching the top, Tyler had jumped off into the lake below, shouting: "ARSCHBOMBE!"

He jumped in soon after, feeling the refreshing coolness of the irradiated water surrounding him.

Again he had used words he did not understand. He didn't think it was Chinese. Of course not English either; no matter how strong a dialect could be, whatever way Tyler rolled the r, it did not sound like English at all!

But for now this topic was unimportant. What was though, was that little pouch filled with caps... and it wasn't all that bad, swimming in the cool water. Having fun with Tyler. The scene was so weirdly peaceful, like it rarely was. Maybe it was also his own mind, most of the time telling him to not let his guard down. But he could do so around him.

"Oh, c'mon, Creads! You're slimmer than me, you can surely catch up with my lame ass!" He called out, watching as the other quickly began to close the distance between them.

It took a few seconds before Mac managed to catch up to him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and dunked his head under the water once.  
Tyler quickly resurfaced, taking a breath before continuing to laugh.  
"With your swimming skill, you should be teaching the kids!"  
The little purse was handed over to him.  
"Nah, I think you are doing pretty good."  
Tyler smiled brightly, thanking him for the compliment.

They swam for a little while longer, before getting out of the water to dry off in the sun.

They just laid there in the warm rays, the sniper appreciating the few breezes that blew through his hair.  
After a few minutes he leaned up on his elbows, and looked at Tyler. His eyes were closed, hands behind his head.  
"Say.. what exactly happened the other day? Are you ready to talk about it?"  
He kept his eyes closed, but he could see the slight movements under his lids.  
"I... Hancock and I were at a weird building someone sent us to to find some sort of chems. I know that we went in there, killing gunners that... were attacking each other."

 _"I have a bad feeling about this place," John whispered as soon as they entered. "Whatever chem we are looking for got to be some strong shit if even I'm saying that."  
_ _"I don't want to keep the guy hanging. We will just go in and out. Quickly."  
_ _As soon as they walked down the first hall, they heard gunshots, the both of them finding cover thinking it was aimed at them, but the screaming coming from neither of them told otherwise. Tyler held his aluminium bat tightly, carefully peeking around the corner to see who and how many were there. Gunners. Shooting their own men and women. They decided to just watch, waiting for these mercenaries to off each other.  
This strategy continued the whole way, thus taking more time than expected; it was the safest solution though.  
_ _It was when they reached the lower level of the_ _facility that the General began to feel odd. His hands felt numb, his mind drifted off more into his own head than to the task at hand. John had to watch him just stand motionlessly at times, as if he was watching something play out, but it was never something Hancock was able to see as well.  
_ _After talking with a gunner saying something about bugs and a cat Tyler's memory began to get more hazy, before completely withdrawing from his consciousness._

"I barely remember what happened before we got out. I know I was coughing, and it felt like I was throwing up. There were small bugs all over me at some point, but Hancock said there hadn't been any, but I had indeed puked my guts out. He also told me that once we got what we came for and left the damn building, I just... passed out, later on suffered a seizure. I was lucky a doctor was passing wherever John had pulled me to safety."  
Tyler frowned at a more unpleasant memory and opened his eyes, as if he couldn't watch the scene watch out in his mind's eye.  
"I think I... tried to attack him."  
MacCready sat up fully and set his hand on Tyler's thigh as a comforting gesture. "I am sure you didn't mean to, boss. Whatever these drugs made you do, was not you."  
"Mac," the other also sat up, "I.. I felt this burning anger again, and I remember I genuinely tried to kill him! I don't care if it was this gas, or not!" He hid his face behind his hands. "I almost would've killed a friend again. I would have-!"  
Before the kid could continue his rambling, he wrapped his arms around the bigger frame. His shoulders were shaking slightly and his whole body tense. The gesture was enough to calm him down, the muscles in his body relaxing.

Tyler hugged back, slowly and gently, as if he was made of glass. He let him pull him back to the ground.  
"I am sure Hancock isn't mad at you. He is pretty smart. It's alright."  
"It's.. alright."

Mac began to feel his heartbeat going faster, now being held by his friend like that. Secure, safe. Happy. But there was something else, a feeling that grew stronger in his chest the longer they laid like that. He didn't want to move, thinking that even the slightest twitch of his hand would end this moment.  
Instead of pushing the feeling away again like he had done before, he let it fill his whole body. He realised what it was that he was feeling. What he was yearning for.

Tyler's hand caressed his back. His own hand deliberately ran its fingers through the damp black hair of his friend.

 _No way.. I am crushing on the "Hero of the_ _Commonwealth" ..._

"Sometimes you remind me so much of him, it hurts," he heard the hoarse voice slur lazily next to his ear.  
"..Who?" His heart hurt at the words, contracting at the thought of someone else already being in the position that he wanted to be in.  
"I will tell you some other time," Tyler pulled away, and Mac wished he hadn't asked. He wished he didn't remind his boss of whoever that person was, but at the same time felt that it was a good sign. "For now let's go back. I am still feeling a little tired."

"Yes.. let's go."

He had attempted to not let the feelings of hurt shine through his words, but Tyler's eyes betrayed the worry he must've felt. He had just sat up when the other suddenly leaned closer, giving his forehead a light kiss. His cheeks heated up once he realised what had just happened, and he shied away, standing up to pull on his clothes.

He heard a chuckle behind him and he yelped: "Shut up!"

* * *

It was evening when Tyler finally awoke from his nap, looking much more rested than before; when he had practically fallen into bed, the stiff frame creaking under the weight.

MacCready had passed the time eating lunch, drinking a couple beers, brooding about something while holding the little wooden soldier in his hand. There was something he wanted to talk with Tyler about. Something that worried him day and night, whether he wanted it to or not.

The shorter man dropped in the chair next to Mac's, the other placing a beer in front of him without hesitation.

"Woo, I didn't expect to sleep this long. You could've woken me up."  
"Nah, you needed to rest. And I certainly don't have anything against getting paid for drinking your fridge empty."

Tyler laughed, opening the bottle with help of the edge of the kitchen table.

A few seconds passed in silence.  
"Tyler... I wanted to ask you something."  
"Hm?" The other turned his head to him, showing that he had his boss' full attention.  
"Well... you may not know about it, but I used to work with the Gunners at some point. The gang I used to run with, these assh- jerks Winlock and Barnes still have it out for me after having left them, for still working in "their" territory as they name it. I could be able to pay them, if there wasn't such a high risk of them killing me regardless."  
"If they want to kill you for doing your job, then you could kill them before they do." Tyler didn't say it like it was nothing. He almost sounded repulsed by the thought of killing people intentionally; unlike it was with raider ambushes. What Mac appreciated was that he was still able to do it, he knew Tyler would help him, and he knew they had a chance.  
"I thought of that already, but," he took a deep breath, "I can't do it on my own. I would need to take out a whole station."  
When his boss didn't answer he snapped a little involuntarily: "Listen, I am asking for help here, boss! I understand if you wouldn't want to help me. You would be risking your life for the person you employ-"  
"Hold on, I am thinking of a plan..." The other silenced him by lifting his hand. "I think if I were to gather some willing Minutemen to wherever you needed them to go, we might have a good chance at this."

Mac's heart made a flip, and he let out a shaky breath, unbelieving of what Tyler had just said. 

"I can offer some old power armour I got laying around my settlements, all the weapons and ammo you could be asking for." He leaned back in his chair, hands resting behind his head. A smirk formed on his face. "Just say the word."

"Let's do it."


	5. High Hopes Part I and II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I  
> Tyler and MacCready planned out the best way to defeat the baddies.  
> Now they also got to put it into action.  
> All had gone according to plan, until someone decides to cut the thin threat Mac had been balancing on up on the Interchange.
> 
> Part II  
> MacCready barely remembers what had happened once he got shot off the Interchange.  
> But he knows he is alive, and he knows Tyler is alive. There is nothing else he should be worried about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank the person that left comments on my book in almost every chapter: Thank you very much! I appreciated every one of them, and they inspired me to write more again.
> 
> Thanks Swayze!

**Part I**

The next day had been spent to inform nearby settlements to mobilise willing Minutemen. Preston had first not agreed to do this, but after MacCready explained to him what advantages it could bring to take out a whole station of Gunners - that they would not attack a settlement like it had happened in Quincy - he reluctantly complied, especially after the trusted friends of the General offered to help.

_"General, do you really think this is a good idea? If the Minutemen are to attack them, they could hold a bigger grudge against us, and may try to retaliate," Garvey pointed out, sitting straighter in his chair at the kitchen table in Tyler's house. MacCready was leaning against the wall, looking out into the garden where the crops thrived thanks to the care the settlers put into it._   
_"I may not be smart, I know that, but I know that whoever behaves the way they do, killing innocents - women and children alike - then yes, this is a good idea."_   
_Mac huffed: "Let alone they aren't able to hold any bigger grudge against us already. All people not belonging to their damn cult are to be eliminated if they see fit." He looked at Preston, shoulders stiff due to the tension building before the oncoming fight: "They will continue to attack settlements like they have before, like in Quincy. And," a small smirk appeared on his face, "if we do it properly, they won't even know who it was."_

_Preston sighed, looking down on the notes MacCready had prepared for them, telling them about how many they were up against, the way they were positioned and what sort of weapons were at their disposal._

_"Even if we were to make it up to the Interchange, how will we handle their Assaultron? Just trying to shoot it down with your Minigun could leave it enough time to pulverise you," he didn't sound like he was still arguing, but rather aiding them in formulating their plan. And it let Mac's smile widen a little more. Tyler stood up, walking to the kitchen. He came back with a Nuka Cola in his hand, taking a couple sips before finally answering._   
_"I think I have an idea for that problem, but we would need someone with computer knowledge, and a Pipboy."_   
_"You mean... hacking it and shutting it down?" Garvey sounded disbelieving. "Who would run willingly on such a suicide mission?"_

_"It's not suicide if we do it strategically," a low voice butted in. Mac looked around to whoever had said that. The door to the house was opened, and next to it stood Nick Valentine, Piper and Hancock. Their timing was almost comical._

_Tyler grinned.  
_ _"We couldn't let you face those thugs alone, could we?"_  
 _"Nicky!" He set the bottle down and walked over to his friends, first giving the private dick a tight hug that lifted him off his feet._  
 _"Careful, young man. These mechanical parts aren't what they used to be."_

_"I'm glad to see you're alright, brother," Hancock set his hand on his shoulder, and the shorter man looked up at him apologetically._   
_"Hey, don't give me that look! I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. And who wouldn't want to help eliminate our favourite mercenary's bullies?"_

_Piper opened her arms for a hug when his attention shifted to her, and he accepted the offer. She whispered something into his ear, something MacCready couldn't hear from where he was standing, but it left the boy slightly flustered._

_"So," Hancock smiled slyly, "let's make a plan, shall we?"_

This led to Tyler, MacCready, and Valentine to walk up another way of the highway, ambushing the station from the West with many other Minutemen.  
The General was wearing a suit of power armour, trusty bat in hand, while Nick had been given some better leather armour than his usual shirt and old trench coat, as well as the Pipboy his friend always carried in order to hack the Assaultron.

There also were a few troops ready to attack the Gunners from below, taking those guarding the lift out. Once that would be done, Piper and Hancock were to join the fight up on the Interchange by using said lift.

Tyler and Nick were creeping closer, hiding behind old cars, while the others stayed behind to not attract too much attention.  
Mac's job was to take the first step: Take out the turret guarding the entrance to their little camp and any Gunner that would try to shoot at them from back there with his sniper rifle.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. But this uncomfortable feeling taking up space in his chest was less about himself, but more for Tyler, his friend who was sacrificing something for him - hopefully not his life.

He crouched low behind a car, watched Nick and his boss get into position, before looking through his scope and targeting the turret. It was a perfect shot, taking the machine out with one bullet. A couple gunners came running to the spot, one lying dead on the ground before the second one was even able to lift his laser pistol. A third shot rang out, that unfortunately missed. MacCready cursed under his breath, almost cursing at himself for letting that slip, too. No time for that now. This was for Duncan as well. To make the Commonwealth a little safer for his son.

The woman who had gotten away and hidden behind the wooden fence called out for something, and soon enough the mechanical and heavy footsteps of the Assaultron could be heard, taking up speed once it spotted him. He ducked lower, only able to hear the commotion following. The Minutemen stayed were they were, waiting for their signal to move in.

Curiosity came as quickly as his need to duck, and he peeked around the car, watching Tyler jump out from behind the car and throw his whole weight at the robot, managing to pin it to the concrete while Nick did his best to hack it. Shots rang out, and MacCready lifted his arm, the Minutemen all beginning to shoot at the Gunners trying to take out the two men basically laying out in the open. MacCready could see Tyler struggling to hold the Assaultron's arms down as he was simultaneously shot at, but the thing soon stopped moving.

MacCready, once seeing that his boss would be alright, pulled himself out of his thoughts and signalled for the civilian soldiers to push forward with a wave of his arm, him running towards the camp first. He ran over to the spot where the other two had hidden behind and peeked around the corner, lining the scope of his rifle up with the heads of a couple Gunners.

He was about to lean back again to reload, when he got pushed back by the pressure of a fusion cell unloading in his left upper arm. The burning sensation that spread through his arm was quickly followed by building pain, and hot red blood oozing out of the wound.  
"Damnit!"  
He rolled into cover instead, holding onto the wound tightly as if that would numb the spot if he were to do so powerful enough.

_Don't have time for this! They are counting on me!_

He willed the shaking in his arm to stop as well as possible, reloaded his rifle, and continued to take out any Gunner that was dumb enough to run around in the open.

The fighting below had stopped, the Minutemen that had ambushed the camp from up here had pushed the rest of the Gunners back. Only he was still sitting there, like a coward.

The adrenaline running through his veins willed him to get up and run further in, making sure all the time that no one was around to shoot him. He saw Tyler and Nick up ahead, latter kicking a Gunner, that looked awfully similar to Barnes, off the highway. Tyler was trying to hit Winlock who was wearing power armour himself. He didn't like the fact that there was a functioning minigun just behind that asshole.

He wanted to yell at him to watch out, but knew that his boss would only become distracted.  
So he ran closer, picking up a laser gun a Gunner must have dropped and continued his way forward.  
He felt his heart sink a little when he spotted a few corpses belonging to their army. They died because of his bad decisions in the past.

Winlock managed to get a good punch to Tyler's head, the boy staggering back from the power behind it. His helmet had flown off, revealing blood running down his nose, and a fury behind his eyes like he hadn't seen before. Before Tyler had the chance to fully recover from the blow though, Winlock had already grabbed the minigun. MacCready stopped in his tracks and yelled for all the people up on the highway: " **Search cover**!"

Everyone scattered, except Tyler, who deliberately grabbed the barrel of the gun, stopping it from spinning any further.  
MacCready dropped the gun in his hand, trying to get a good shot with his rifle, but his arm kept shaking too much; he would risk shooting Tyler on accident.

_Shit.. I feel_ _dizzy._

They needed to end this soon, his arm refused to move any longer, rendering it, him, useless.

"Drop the goddamn fucking gun, asshole, or I will push the barrel up your ass once I opened your power armour like a can of tuna!" Tyler screamed. Winlock seemed to weigh his options; all his men were dead, he was the only one left, and the weapon he planned to use to kill them was currently being held in a vice-grips for him unable to utilise.

He dropped it, a dark smile forming on his face. "Well, if it ain't MacCready's little friends.. dumb, too, considering you're helping this pile of trash."  
Tyler huffed, obviously suppressing the anger welling up inside of him.  
"I advise you get out of your power armour, too," Nick said, stepping next to Tyler who was holding onto Winlock's arm tightly.

He wasn't sure when Piper and Hancock joined, but they suddenly were next to the merc, the woman gently holding him by his shoulders.  
"Jesus.. are you alright, MacCready?"  
"Yes, I'm fine," he whispered back, pulling away from her grip to stagger over to the others.

"You do know he is just using you, right? Like he had used us?" Winlock got out of the suit, crossing his arms while watching the ex-gunner walk over.  
No one answered, leaving MacCready to decide what should happen with the man.

"What are you waiting for? Don't got the guts, MacCready?" He spit his name like it was profanity.  
"You really think they will believe the words coming from someone like yourself?" Mac really wanted this over with, but something else also wanted this to last, wanted him to enjoy this display.  
"Are you really better than me? Think about it: You were a gunner like I am. You killed innocents. What is the difference between us?"

The sniper clenched his fist, and before he knew it he had grabbed Tyler's bat and was smashing Winlock's head in. It was an action untypical for even himself, causing his former boss to not react quickly enough. Even with his left arm not able to move properly, his hits were heavy and full of anger.  
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but once he felt a warm hand on his shoulder it brought him back to reality, it grounded him in the present, where before he had seen his past actions, the horrible things he had done. It couldn't be true, what Winlock said.

He turned around. It was Tyler - without his armour -, giving him comfort with such a simple gesture. He had to look away, ashamed of how he had ended this whole thing, how... 

"Hey, it's okay now, Creads," he said quietly, "it's over."  
The urge to hug him, damn, even to cry began to well up in his chest. He was frustrated, angry, sad and exhausted. He needed nothing more than to sleep. A long rest.

"Y-yeah, right." He handed the bat back, searching for his rifle in an attempt to get his mind off of the fact that everyone was staring at him; multiple expressions could be read off of the faces surrounding him, and he wasn't sure he even liked the positive ones.

He heard Tyler yelling orders behind him as he walked closer to the edge, where his rifle was laying.  
Tyler was behind him again, asking him something he didn't hear. When he properly realised that he was being spoken to he turned around to ask. Still all these damn worried glances from everyone around him! Piper, Nick, Hancock, Preston, Tyler, fuck, even from a few Minutemen.

He opened his mouth to inquire what he had missed.  
But he didn't get far.

A crackling thunder disrupted the silence of the just recent battlefield.

His eyes followed the red beam that had been shot at him, his body simultaneously moving back, as if that would reverse the intrusion. The left side of his chest bled.

All was happening in slow motion after that. He could see the shocked faces of his friends as he looked up, he could see a few people turning around to the person that was holding a laser rifle. He could see others running over to him, but he felt like he was falling.

Maybe he was falling?

He could see hands trying to grab him, but he could see there was no way for anyone to get to him in time.  
The only thing he couldn't make out was to feel the pain in his arm or chest anymore. He couldn't hear Tyler calling his name.

For a mere moment he could see the edge of the bridge from an angle he wasn't supposed to - it was surreal to see it that way when one always had walked on top of it - before he closed his eyes to wait for the impact.

* * *

Preston couldn't believe the luck the General had.

The current situation was so unlikely, he would be laughing if there wasn't so much adrenaline flowing through his veins as he was holding onto Tyler's left leg with all his might, while he felt Hancock holding onto his.

One moment the General jumped after the injured man, then before he knew what he was doing himself, he was grabbing Tyler's leg mid air, only to be pulled halfway off the Interchange, so that Hancock, Nick and Piper could keep the three of them from falling to their deaths.

"Get over here! We need help to pull the General up," Hancock ordered, voice strained from exertion. A few seconds later Garvey felt more hands grip him by his ankles and pull him back to safety, along with Tyler and MacCready.

The doctor they had bought with them for emergencies like this was not up here, so Preston told a woman to get her up to the bridge. After that shot, the injured merc's body shouldn't be jostled any more than it was.

Both the men in front of him were deathly pale, one unconscious, and the other in some sort of shock.

Preston crouched down and gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, able to feel the slight trembling of his body.  
"General... Tyler?" He asked, but none of these titles seemed to get his attention. He just continued to stare into the distance while holding his friend tightly in his arms, his head resting on the shorter one's shoulder.

Piper mumbled: "We should separate them so the doctor can work on MacCready's wounds."

Nick began to tenderly remove Tyler's hands from the other man's arm and neck. He first was met with some resistance, but once the ghoul sat next to him, wrapping an around his shoulders, it disappeared, and both the synth detective and co-leader of the Minutemen could lay MacCready on a bed in the shed at the end of the camp; secure, private and out of sight.

Piper took a seat on the hard concrete next to Tyler as well.

Minutes passed, the doctor, who had finally arrived, working on MacCready's wounds, the Minutemen still alive and well beginning to clear the place off everything valuable - food, water, ammo and guns.  
Tyler's gaze had shifted over to what his followers were doing.  
And whatever they were doing motivated the young man to get up and walk over to the little platform where a turret had previously stood.  
He climbed the steps up to it carefully, legs a little unsteady and hand gripping the railing until his knuckles were white.  
He didn't even have to say anything, but his stance and aura gave signal enough for everyone to stop doing what they were doing and pay attention.

"This battle was not for nothing, I want all of you to know that," he started, "and I want all of you to know that you were very brave and courageous, as well as heroic for willingly going into this fight; while knowing fully well that you could have sacrificed your life... like some unfortunately have. Before we are to leave this place, I want everyone to make sure we do not leave any of our companions and friends behind - dead or alive! They did not have to come here today, but they still aided us in defeating these horrible people that kill our men and try to take over our settlements, and try to steal our food and water after we put so much effort into collecting and growing it! I, and you, will honour what they have given for this fight, and we will give them a proper burial, so that everyone can remember them and their deeds!"

Hancock and Piper began clapping, others following suit and soon there were sounds of joy, as well as mourning, filling the air.

"We did it!"  
"We made it!"

" **United we stand**!"

Nick had left the small shack to see what this commotion was about, eyes scanning the crowd, then finally eyes locking onto Tyler's exhausted form.

Hancock rushed over to the synth, while Piper made her way over to her friend to comfort him after this traumatic experience.

"How is he holding up?" the raspy voice of the mayor asked as he lit himself a cigarette.  
Nick rolled his shoulders, as if his body had any muscles that would need for him to get the tension out.  
"Not bad. The doctor said the shot missed his heart. But the wound on his arm as well as in his shoulder caused him to lose a lot of blood. Blood that will need to be replaced."  
"And we don't know his blood type, right?"  
Nick kept silent for a few moments, then answered: "The Gunners are careful about this issue, telling their people about it in cases like this. Maybe he knows his own as well, but we would need to wake him up in order to get any sort of answer."  
"Don't they got that shit tattooed on their forehead or something?"  
"I don't think MacCready has that."  
"Old fashioned way it is then."

MacCready felt dull throbbing pain pulse through his body in tact with his heartbeat. What surprised him was that there even was a heartbeat to begin with. He knew just before passing out that he was falling off of the Interchange. And now he was laying on something soft. There were voices around him, and something was shaking him by his shoulder. God, couldn't he die in peace?

"..cCready," the familiar voice called. It was far away, but the more he was being moved, the closer it got, finally raising him from whatever half-dead dream he had been in.  
Upon opening his eyes he noticed a bright light over his head, too bright for his sensitive eyes and thus closed them again, groaning in discomfort.  
"MacCready, wake up, would you?" Hancock. Hancock was alive the last time he saw him. Which meant he was alive, too.

Hopefully.

"What?" He rolled his head to the side, hissing at the pain that shot out from his shoulder, running up his neck to ultimately give him a headache as well. If this was heaven after all, he was going to demand a refund.  
"You can continue to sleep in just a moment, but we need you to tell us your blood type," Nick inquired. He opened his eyes again, this time able to withstand the awful brightness to make out three people standing around him.  
"I.. I think AB...or somethin'." The room was spinning slightly, but closing his eyes didn't help.  
After he said this, he heard things being moved next to him, followed by a sting in his arm.

He didn't have enough energy to flinch. His whole body felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, and someone had decided it would be fun to spin the bed, nauseating him further and further.

Hancock left the room, and a few seconds - or was it minutes? - later someone else entered.  
The heavy feeling in his limbs seemed to lighten at the sight of Tyler, who crouched down beside him, took his hand in his and whispered that everything would be okay.

And he believed him.

"You're going to be alright, Creads... how are you feeling?"  
"Fu..Damn wonderful. Never felt better with a," he groaned as he tried to sit up, but Tyler was quick to keep him laying down, "hole in my chest."  
Tyler didn't laugh or even smile. He was obviously worried for him; worried for an ex-gunner who got more blood on his hands than anyone else ever should.  
"I feel tired, and the room keeps spinnin'... think'm gonna puke."

The doctor handed a bucket to Tyler that must have been standing around there - he swore these buckets were everywhere in the Commonwealth!  
It was being held before his face, making him feel embarrassed to see how much help he needed, but protesting didn't sound as appealing when he felt bile rise in his throat, as well as the couple snack cakes he had eaten a few hours ago.  
It burned his throat, and tears sprung into his eyes, feeling hot on his skin as they rolled down his cheeks.  
The convulsions his body forced him to do caused more and more pain to flare up.  
"H.. It hurts!" He gasped, before his body forced him to expel more of the contents of his stomach into the bucket.

"He's bleeding again!" Someone called out, and things and people began to move around him again.  
"Quick, get me my threat and needle and disinfectant!"  
"You should go, Tyler. Help your people outside to clean up."

More was being said, and he was being jostled around again, but all his senses weakened, the world greying and dying into black into black the more he tried to stay awake.

He knew he was going to be fine. He trusted Tyler.

He would be okay.

**Part II**

Waking up was a task like it hadn't been in a while.  
His ideas of what to do when he felt himself wake up, while simultaneously staying in his half-dream, contradicted each other.  
MacCready wanted to leave bed, his curiosity about what had happened after the fight biting at his insides - especially when it came to Tyler. Had his boss survived? Or had they been ambushed after just thinking they had won?  
Then there was the warmth and softness around him, lulling him back into the odd dream he had had, which had caused him to raise from sleep in the first place. At least he suspected that it was a mere dream. Because he wasn't back in the Capital Wasteland, nor with his beloved son.

Then there was another sound. MacCready forced his ears to pay more attention and possibly identify the noise.  
After a few moments of silence it was there again; sniffling, light sobbing.  
Someone was crying.

"Ugh.. how is one supposed to sleep peacefully with someone crying next to them?" he groaned, with no bite behind the words whatsoever. He moved his limbs to wake up the rest of his body as well, his breath hitching once a sharp ache traveled through his arm, halting all movement.  
The sobbing stopped. He opened his eyes to see what he had almost already suspected to find: Tyler sitting on a chair placed next to the bed, weeping as if he had died.

"Sorry, sorry," he quickly apologised, wiping the snot and tears away with the sleeve of his shirt.  
Mac chuckled, shaking his head at the other's behaviour.  
"Don't worry, I was just joking. I guess I should be glad someone cares so much about me."  
"... Of course I do."  
He rolled his eyes: "I know, you doofus," he smiled, "c'mere."

He opened his arms as carefully as he could for Tyler to do what he wanted - it was basically written on his face, and wouldn't need any detective skills to figure out.  
Tyler slowly kneeled before the bed and hugged MacCready. He wouldn't admit that it comforted him as much as it must have his friend.

"So, mind explaining to me how I am still alive?" He pulled away from the hug and laid back down.  
"Funny story...," Tyler was trying to joke, but the smile on his lips wasn't genuine, "Okay, actually not funny at all. A gunner who must have hidden somewhere shot you. You were standing near the edge of the Interchange and you stumbled back. I caught you at the last second."  
"That seems.. highly unlikely."  
"Yeah.. I jumped down with you, and Preston and the others caught me as I was about to fall with you."

Mac's eyes widened, realising what that meant.  
"You would've fallen to your death with me, just to rescue me?" His heart fluttered in his chest; both out of shock and extreme appreciation for what Tyler had almost sacrificed. "Oh god, Tyler, you could've **died**!"  
The other's shoulders stiffened and he sat back down on the chair, distancing himself from the sniper's reaction.  
"You were damn lucky the other's still were able to catch you. I- I can't believe you would do this! That was so irresponsible! I-"  
He was rambling before he could stop himself, and couldn't stop himself even after seeing the way his friend's shoulders sagged low, back hunching like a child scolded for bad behaviour. But that hurt look in his eyes soon washed away, replaced by something stronger.  
He jumped up from the chair, fists clenched and face muscles distorted in suppressed anger.  
" **I don't care what you think about me saving you! I don't care if you think it was irresponsible, or even _childish_! I would do it again if you needed me! And I don't care what you would need me to do, because I will be there with you! That is what _I do_ ; I am there for my friends!**"

The merc was speechless and just watched Tyler storm out of the room, hearing the entrance door slam shut hard enough it might as well be broken with his boss' strength now.

_Good job, Robert. You made your saviour feel bad about saving_ _you._

The memory of Winlock resurfaced, telling him how he was so similar to that damn jerk who shot kids and women, innocents.  
What if that was true? He had done so before as well, but stopped once the deep-rooted disgust he felt got too much. It didn't undo what he had done though. And now he showed just how _ungrateful_ he could be.

He laid on his right side, back now turned to the door of the small room that was still open.  
Sleeping sounded like the best course of action for now. Forget what he had just managed to ruin.

* * *

He was woken up by Piper after some time. He knew he felt a little more refreshed and clear-minded, meaning some time must have passed.  
It stung a little to not have Tyler wake him up.

"Hey, there. How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.  
"Like an injured man who got shot in the chest and arm."  
Piper rolled her eyes, but she didn't really appear annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. I came to tell you about the little party Tyler is throwing in a bit. For the fallen, and our victory, y'know? And since you took part in it, it would only be nice for you to take part as well."  
MacCready protested on instant, Winlock's words echoing in his head like a haunting: "All these people fought _for_ me, died _for_ me. They can celebrate, but I don't really have a right to that."  
"Jeez, MacCready, and I thought you were smarter than that," she shook her head and looked into his eyes, "you have fought as well. Let alone all of them knew about the risk, and knew who they were doing it for. The advantage of the Gunner-gang not harassing their friends or anyone else anymore is just a big plus. Now get up! Don't think I haven't noticed your argument with Tyler. You two need to make up again; and what better way to do that than with a cold beer?"

She grabbed him by his uninjured arm and pulled him into a sitting position. He realised he was only wearing his pants, thin chest exposed to her. He knew he was blushing almost instantly at the realisation and quickly wrapped the blanket around himself.

Piper didn't appear to mind at all, back already turned to search through the dresser to find some fitting clothes.  
He yelped as she threw a red and black lumberjack shirt at him, the man still not quick enough with his reflexes to catch it before it was flung into his face.

He pulled it on, attempting to move his left arm as little as possible. It still hurt like a bitch, and he was grateful for the reporter to not intervene, but just give him time.

As they made their way outside, MacCready noticed it was beginning to get dark.  
"How long was I out for?" He looked around, seeing a few lanterns set up on the side of the road to guide the way to the spot they would celebrate at. The two followed the path.  
"Three days. After Tyler pulled off that crazy rescue we bandaged your wounds and all," she shrugged, "walked back with all the others with our dear General not once leaving your side... until he stormed out of your house a couple hours ago."

**Your house.**

As if it belonged to him now as well. One could consider that; he slept there with Tyler after all, and even had his clothes stored in his dresser. The shirt Piper had picked out had not been his though - it was painfully obvious that it was too big for his frame.

"I won't ask you to tell me what happened between the two of you, but I am sure you would feel better if you at least talked it out with him."  
"...Let's get something to drink first. And sit down, I still feel a little woozy."

They reached the end of the road, located before the giant tree where usually the market was. But now the shops were closed, there was a campfire with sawed tree trunks around it. People were walking around, smiling and laughing, while some others appeared to still mourn the loss of their friends.  
The Minutemen MacCready passed shot him sympathetic looks, seemingly glad to see him alive and walking. The nervousness in the pit of his stomach, he hadn't even noticed was there, got a little less at these accepting glances. They wanted him here, didn't push him away after all he had done even before accepting Tyler's job offer.

"Wait here, I'll get us something to drink," Piper ordered, keeping a secure grip on his shoulders as he sat on one of the trunks close to the fire.  
He wondered where Tyler was. Had he maybe ruined the party for him before it had even started? Was he still mad at him for being so unthankful?  
The cold sensation of glass against his hands pulled him back from his dark thoughts, and he took a hold of it before it could fall down.  
Piper dropped down next to him, own beer in hand.

"Say," MacCready started carefully after a few seconds, "does Tyler have some sort of disapproval for the words 'childish', 'babysitter' and the like?"  
She turned to him, a curious expression on her face. Apparently she didn't know either.  
"I mean.. I noticed that he gets unusually quiet or... angry. Maybe he told you about something."  
"When has he reacted like that?" He at least had piqued her interest.  
"The night after he employed me. Hancock and I were having a conversation that left me a little," he cleared his throat, his cheeks heating up a little, "shaken up. You were in the bathroom so you probably didn't hear, but I was just joking when saying that we should get going soon; that I was not paid for playing his babysitter. He had seemed a little disheartened when I said that. Or today in our fight." He took a few sips from his beer, testing if his stomach could even handle an alcoholic drink. "While we were fighting over something dumb, he said that his behaviour was childish, and that he didn't care. But I saw he wasn't happy saying that himself."  
"Y'know," she got up, "maybe you should go ask him yourself. Don't be scared to get closer to someone, MacCready. You can trust him, like rarely anyone in the Commonwealth. He won't reject you."

With that she left, walking over to Nick who appeared to also have wanted to take part in this festivity. He stood a little further away from everyone else, and away from the fire. Meaning he was alone now.  
And he felt nervous again. Especially after what the reporter had just told him.

Music started playing from somewhere, loud enough for the people around the marketplace to hear. Diamond City Radio.

But the sniper was more concerned about the words that had been spoken to him. Had Piper really figured him out like that? Trust issues surely were normal around the world. So why did _he_ of all people have to be told? He didn't take it to the extreme, right?  
He trusted Tyler, and they had talked about something personal before... Not really. He barely knew about his past, nor did the other know much of his own. Fuck, maybe she was right.  
A shiver ran down his spine.

Something heavy was placed around his shoulders, and he looked behind himself to find Tyler there, now in just a shirt again.

He didn't say anything as he sat next to him, no drink in hand, but a slight smile on his face, and amber eyes staring into the fire.  
It was nice to know that the other didn't feel the need to small talk. So they sat there in comfortable silence.

Whatever fight they had had was not important anymore, it seemed. But then an idea, a worry, formed in the merc's head: He might have been high off Med-X right then. Was he even himself whenever injecting that stuff into his bloodstream?   
That thought didn't sit well with MacCready.

He already opened his mouth to apologise, but Tyler was faster: "I'm sorry about yelling at you."  
The taller man was a little shocked; he didn't have anything to apologise for.  
"N-no, it's okay. I was being an ungrateful as-prick. You saved my life, and helped me take out Winlock and Barnes."  
He placed his hand on the other's shoulder, their eyes met. "Thank you."

His smile widened, and MacCready couldn't help but smile back. "No problem. What I said back in our house... I meant that."

_**And I don't care what you would need me to do, because I will be there with you!** _

And again: _Our_ house.

He had to look away, his smile widening further to expose his dirty teeth.

Tyler yawned next to him, and slid down from the tree trunk to use it as a backrest instead.  
"What, already tired? Your party hasn't even started yet!" He mussed up his longer getting hair. "Sometime we pass Diamond City, we ought to get you to the hairdresser."  
He felt Tyler relax a little at his touch.  
"Same goes for you! Your beard is getting longer. Makes you look older than you are."  
"Hey, don't disrespect your elders like that!"  
The other just laughed.

"What did you do before the Great War?"  
Someone passed them, handing the General a bottle of beer before disappearing again.  
"Nothing much. I was going to college like my parents wanted me to, but.. it just wasn't for me. I wanted to become a musician."  
"A musician?! I can only imagine you in a fancy dress like Magnolia."  
"I don't know who Magnolia is, but I guess the funny part is me wearing the dress, right?" He looked up, confused.  
"Anyway, it was going to be something different," he looked at the fire again, "something people during that time probably didn't want to, but needed to hear!"  
"What was it called?"  
"Punk rock. Well, the genre. But before we could even record our music, the bombs dropped and... now I am here, without..."  
His look became distant.

MacCready was about to ask if he was okay, when the usual happiness returned in his eyes and he whipped around: "What is your full name, Creads? I think I have been using your surname all the time."  
"Robert Joseph MacCready."  
"That sounds so cool." He leaned back against the trunk, legs stretched out towards the fire.  
"My full name is Tyler Leopold Stehli. But don't go running around calling me my second name... it's a little embarrassing."

Again he noticed the way how differently the other pronounced a word.

"Tyler, I've been wondering for a bit now, what language is it you sometimes speak?"  
"German."  
"German?"  
"Yeah, that's what I said." He looked up, confusion once again readable on his face.  
"No, I mean.. you speak both languages. Did your parents come to America or something before the Great War? From Germany?"  
"Oh, I don't know when exactly the Great War had already started. After all, it was a big conflict-"  
"Tyler," MacCready rolled his eyes, "just answer the question." The boy blushed when he realised that he had been focusing on the wrong part of the query again.  
"Sorry. My mother came from Germany, my father was an American. I was born here, but raised knowing both English and German. Even had a couple friends who spoke it as well, so I didn't feel too different." Tyler must have had some fond memories of these friends. For a moment he had forgotten himself, and rested his head on Mac's leg.  
"I miss them."

The sniper rested a hand on Tyler's head.

"I'm sure you do."


	6. I go hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready is happy. After such a long time. It is the beginning of lasting happiness, thanks to Tyler alone.  
> But then this damn factory, this damn pink soup, this damn fucking....  
> He doesn't understand why this had to happen, to Tyler no less. It is his fault.  
> Now it is on him and his friends to safe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> Even if the weight loss is unintentional, there still will be description of extreme hunger and weight loss. Thus I recommend for someone with a history of an eating disorder to not read this chapter.

"This the place?"  
MacCready couldn't believe that whoever paid them so highly from the Upper Stands would want them to scout in a dilapidated building like this. Half of the factory was destroyed, and the giant tube which once must have emitted some chemicals into the atmosphere stood crooked. He could believe that the woman didn't want to go herself because the people from Diamond City were too scared to set even one foot out of the secure walls - let alone stepping into a building that looked about to totally collapse on top of them was probably not the best change of scenery.

"I have no idea," Tyler answered, looking at his Pipboy to confirm whether it was the right place or not.  
"Yep, it is. Let's go. I don't want to stay here until it gets dark. Who knows what's in here?"

Mac couldn't argue with that logic. He shrugged and followed Tyler to the double doors which surprisingly were still intact.  
The other took proper hold of his bat before slowly and as quiet as possible opening the door. The squeaking made the quiet approach next to impossible, and a shiver ran down his spine as they entered. This place gave off a really bad vibe, making his skin crawl, wishing they had refused the job.

"I have a bad feeling about this place, Tyler...," he whispered, not daring to raise his voice any higher.  
"You want to wait outside?" The other asked, turning around to face him.  
"No! And be quiet!"

Too late.   
Already he heard the debris around them move, and the unmistakeable growling and croaking that only ferals could make.  
His palms were already sweaty, and despite himself his knees got weak. He wanted to run and hide, but he couldn't leave Tyler alone with these monsters.

Tyler already ran further in, smashing his bat into the head of a feral that was still crawling on the ground, attempting to rise from its half-dead state.  
He shook his head to clear his mind from the fear and shot at the closest ghoul, bringing it down.  
He counted how many they were up against: just four more. But something was off about them.

Two of them ran at Tyler, who swung his bat in one swift motion, ripping their heads clean off.  
The last was missing its legs, reaching its arms out at them in a desperate attempt to feed on their blood. It was almost a sad sight. The sniper bashed its head in with his rifle.

Something was amiss, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that was bugging him.

They were in some sort of foyer, with a reception desk in front of another set of double doors. There were two more doorways, but the one of the right was blocked by all the debris. But the one on the left appeared to be accessible.  
He walked to the desk first. A broken terminal, a safe, some papers; nothing of interest, except that safe.  
Opening it was another story.  
"Boss, you got a co-"  
"Tyler," the other corrected him.  
"Leopold," he grinned at the other, who was standing near the door to the left. That name earned him a hearted raised middle finger. "You got any lock picks?"  
He was handed a little box of them from the boy's backpack.  
"I'll check out this room here. I'll call you when I need help."

He tried for a couple minutes, wasting a few lock-picks, but the safe was just too strong for him to open.  
Tyler had returned by then.  
"Find anything interesting?" He got off the floor and grabbed his rifle again, returning the box back to its owner.  
"A couple holotapes. I'll listen to them later."

Now to go further into this factory.  
"She wanted some inhalers right? Where do you think we'll find them?" He really didn't want to spend more time here than necessary.  
"Probably in some storage? We just have to hope it wasn't buried underneath all the rubble," the other answered, "because we won't be able to dig our way through that mess."  
He agreed. He had better things to do than dig around between rotting corpses and garbage.

Tyler had a Molotov cocktail in his hand, flip lighter at the ready. MacCready opened the door.  
There was old machinery, inhalers strewn about on the production lines, and some giant cylindrical containers too high to see what was in them. There also were steps leading up to them, and some other platforms closer to the ceiling one could reach by using the staircase on the other end of the room. The right side of the room was almost caved in, the ceiling appeared to still be stable though. He knocked on the opened door, seeing if there was anything half-alive creeping around.

And yes, there was apparently much still creeping through this room; rubble began to move, inhalers were crushed under scrambling feet desperate to move to the source of the noise.  
"Fu-damn it," he cursed, raising his rifle to shoot.  
Tyler threw the burning Molotov cocktail at a small group of ferals who started burning almost instantly. Barely having fluid in one's body did that to them.  
"There's too many!" He breathed, forcing his hands to be steady as he put bullet after bullet in the decaying bodies. Some missed, others only hit the torso or limbs. He had to reload.

A couple ferals got too close. One that was about to ram its full body weight into the sniper got its head bashed in with the bat, leaving the second one to bite onto Tyler's armoured forearm. He kicked it back, then punched it in the face hard enough to send it sprawling to the floor. Before it had the chance to get up again, a heavy boot crushed its brain, blood splashing in all direction from the force.  
MacCready could get sick from that image another time, but now they had to gain some higher ground and gain an advantage in this fight.

"Up the platforms!" he yelled, running to the right one and climbing the half-collapsed steps into a safer position.  
Tyler did the same on the left side, the steps there still functional enough to hold his weight, as well as the ones from the slowly surrounding ferals.

Three on his own side, five on Tyler's. MacCready quickly shot two of them, the last he knocked off the platform with the butt of his rifle landing in the filled container. It simply sunk into the disgusting smelling pink goo. Ugh, he was going to be sick.

Tyler was in a worse position than him. One look told him many things: Firstly, the boy had killed one of the five, leaving four. Secondly, he was backing away, thus standing underneath the container. Thirdly, he looked scared.

Mac had to help him quick.  
One shot to the feral furthest away left only three more to deal with. They were standing too close to Tyler though, and he would risk shooting at him. So he ran down the platform and crawled up the steps to the other one. At that point the boy was trapped by the three ghouls, pushed against the railing that made dangerous sounds. It was going to break!  
The sniper ran over, but after a couple steps the platform gave out under the weight it was subjected to, and he watched almost in slow-motion again how the railing broke off, Tyler and the three ferals falling from the simultaneously collapsing platform that just broke in half into the giant tube, almost sending him with them if he hadn't grabbed onto the still standing part of the stand.  
Pink goo shot up into the air.

"TYLER!"

He jumped down to the ground, running to the steps leading up to the edge of the cylinder. He heard growling, sounds of a struggle and strained coughs.  
"Tyler!" he reached the top of the stairs, analysing the situation for a second; two visible ferals. One trapped between the tube and the fallen platform, still alive, but no threat. The second one he could see was attempting to bite Tyler's face off, but it was sinking its teeth into the handle of the bat, as the boy was gripping the weapon on both sides to push it back. But having to swim, despite the weight of a once-human clinging onto one, was not the best position to do much damage with that technique.

"Kick it away, I'll shoot it!" he ordered, his partner reacting quickly and doing as told. One shot, and the pink goo around the thing slowly turned an odd shade of light red, barely mixing due to the different densities.

It was quiet again, except for the heavy breaths both men were taking.  
He reached down, taking his friends bat before reaching out to hold onto his wrist and pull him up. That goo was slippery as hell.  
"Jesus Christ, this wa-!" Tyler gasped, but he didn't get much further when he was suddenly pulled back underneath, a yell escaping his throat before it was quiet again. This time too quiet for Mac's liking.  
"Tyler? Tyler?!" He was about to jump in as well, when the surface got disturbed again, and he watched his friend desperately hang onto the small ladder in the tube. He reached his hand out again, which MacCready didn't hesitate to take, and finally pulled him out of that damn shit.

"F-feral, in there... pulled me down," he coughed, kneeling on all fours before him.  
He crouched down to his height and slapped him on the back.  
"Hey, hey, it's over now... you did great, Ty."  
He took a few more breaths. Then sat back leaning against the railing.  
"I.. I was scared, Creads. When I was up on the platform.. I looked down and just watched as," he was looking for the right words, eyes flittering from one side to the other, "as the ground got farther away. It felt like when I was up on the Interchange. I thought I was going to fall by some magical force pushing me off." He hugged himself, staring at his own feet.  
"And then falling in that damn narrow tube with these ferals, I-I thought I was going to get crushed or stuck, and fucking drown to death!"

MacCready frowned.  
"Are you afraid of heights?" He probably was after he had saved him from becoming squashed fertiliser on the ground beneath the highway.  
"I wasn't before," he looked up, his sad expression worsening, "I guess I am now. I don't like it."  
MacCready smirked: "Barely anyone likes feeling fear. But y'know what? I think you're strong enough to overcome it whenever you need to." He held his shoulder tightly, feeling this strange substance sticking to his hand.  
"Ew, enough emotional talk, we got to get the inhalers and then that stuff off of you! It stinks worse than you forgetting to shower for a week."  
Tyler looked down at himself, appearing to just now realise he was drenched in that gunk. He grinned mischievously, MacCready being too surprised about what the guy did next to defend himself. Before he knew it, Tyler had wrapped his arms around him, successfully ruining his clothes as well.  
"Damn it, Tyler! That's disgusting!" He wasn't angry though. If his dear friend had enough energy to behave like that, then he must have felt better - even a little.

* * *

"Oh, you found them! Wonderful!" The rather voluptuous woman took the box of intact and filled inhalers, before throwing a big heap of caps in the now free spot on the table in the bar.  
MacCready mumbled under his breath: "You're welcome."  
But she was already walking away, as if they were nothing more than air once again. The merc hated it here. Diamond City, and especially these Upper Stand-goofs, thought they were so much better than everyone else! Better than people like him over in Goodneighbour. But that was straight up bullshit. The money ruined their character more than their looks; this Codman-character was the worst of all. Ugly face and ugly character.

"Let's go, boss. I don't want the stench of superiority-complex rubbing off on me," he helped the other throw the caps in his backpack before going straight to the door.

They had spent the night before sleeping in an abandoned house on the way back, then gotten up early to make it to the city by late noon.  
He had noticed Tyler's stomach growling constantly on the way, and as they left the bar he was reminded of that fact.

"Hungry again, Tyler? We ate lunch just a couple hours ago," he was less worried and more annoyed. He couldn't help it; with Tyler constantly wanting to take a break they would get less work done. Less work meant less caps. And eating more would also mean less caps, because someone had to pay for it.  
The boy held his stomach, seemingly wondering why he was craving food again, too.  
"Sorry, guess I will have a growth spurt soon. Let's go to Power Noodles before we head to Publick Occurrences and the Agency; check in on Piper and Nick."  
MacCready crossed his arms over his chest: "Fine."

* * *

It wasn't noticeable at first.  
Tyler just seemed to eat more, was hungry more often than not. To not take anything from the settlers, he went out to hunt for himself. That was what he told MacCready, who didn't join him as he was asked not to do so. At least Dogmeat was there with him in case something happened. The pup was protective of him, he saw that.

Then he began to see things, things he didn't want to believe, and just shrugged off.  
He noticed Tyler sleeping longer, and snoring less. He noticed how each day he ate so much, but during the night still had to get up and eat. He had woken up once, and just heard him going to bed again to find some container empty in the morning. Dogmeat always stayed at his side now when before he had walked around the settlement to get his daily dose of belly rubs.

"Hey, good morning, Leopold," MacCready whispered, gently shaking his friend awake.  
He kept his eyes closed, rolling away. He groaned: "I told you not to call me that."  
"Yeah, I know. But how else am I supposed to wake you up?" He asked playfully, but the reaction he got was unexpected. Tyler almost looked angry, but sleepiness still clung to his body and eyes: "Like everyone else, maybe?!"  
He got up from the bed and grabbed some clothes from the dresser before locking himself in the bathroom.

"Someone sounds happy," came from the living room. Piper and Hancock were over again, ready to cause trouble with them. It was almost noon by now.  
He joined the others while waiting for their mutual friend.  
"Had been like this for a little while now. I don't know what's going on with him," he set his hands on his hips, looking at the others for possible advice, "I thought he might still be stuck in puberty; eats more, is pretty moody, and sleeps more. But it seems more... serious."  
He sat down on the sofa in the corner, face hidden behind his hands. Now that he had said it out loud there was no lying to himself anymore: Something was going on with Tyler, and they needed to figure out what it was.  
"He eats more?!" The ghoul asked in disbelief, "he looks like he hasn't eaten anything in months!"  
MacCready rubbed his face in frustration when seeing Piper's expression. She agreed with him.  
How hadn't he noticed?

Tyler stepped out, wearing a long-sleeved dark green shirt, black pants that looked too big on him, now that it had been pointed out to the merc, and his trademark boots; underneath his leather armour of course. He grabbed his bat and leather jacket from the bedroom, as well as his rucksack.

"Tyler," Piper spoke up, "it's a little warm for that jacket, isn't it? It's just beginning to get colder outside." Despite it being almost October, she was right. It was rather warm still.  
"Extra protection," was the only response she got before their leader walked out, leaving the others as worried as before.

They were on their way to Hangman's Alley, having heard news about a previous attempted raid. They would secure the place a little more for the 13 people living there, not wanting them to stand alone again a gang of raiders.  
And with MacCready's luck they caught a few of those assholes snooping around near the entrance from the bridge.

They attacked without hesitation, six of them immediately reaching for their guns and aiming them at the little group of four, plus the dog.  
Six against five was not so bad, considering raiders were not as much of team players like they were.  
Tyler ran at one of them, one that Dogmeat was hindering from shooting by sinking his teeth into her arm. The woman cried out in pain, trying to pull back to gain some distance, but the pup was stronger. With her practically immobilised, Tyler swung his bat, bringing the saws attached to it only a quarter through her head. It was enough to kill her, sure, but the sniper knew the other was able to smash the head completely - not that he needed to see that, it was quite disgusting, but it only deepened the worry he should've felt a while ago.

While MacCready had gone for cover after shooting one of the raiders after him in the leg, he had to watch as a raider carrying a pool cue ran over to Tyler, who was still busy trying to pull his bat out of the corpse's head. He rammed his body weight into the boy, and then just began to strike him with his weapon over and over again as the other laid on the ground.

MacCready felt his muscles go rigid as he heard these awful groans of pain, the quiet calls for help, as he watched his friend try to curl up in a meager attempt to protect himself.

He was glad the others were there with him. Only the loud noise of a shotgun being fired over his head brought him back to his senses, and he looked up to see Hancock urging him to get up.

Piper had the last raider, the one having brutally beaten up the Hero of the Commonwealth, at gunpoint. He hadn't dropped his weapon just yet, as if he would really get away with what he had done.  
Tyler was laying on his side now, arms protectively around his stomach. He was so pale, and he could see he was shaking despite standing a few feet away. Dogmeat was standing next to him, growling at the human who hurt his master.

"General?" they turned to the settler that ran out the door leading to the little camp. That little distraction was all it took for the man to run off around the corner. Piper shot at him, but the bullet only hit the wall.  
Hancock set his hand on her shoulder: "Let him go. We got more things to worry about right now."  
She was reluctant, no wonder, but put the gun back in its holster regardless.

MacCready was kneeling next to the injured man, rolling him over to assess the damage. Through the armour protecting his chest he could see how shallowly he was breathing, as if he had just run from a Deathclaw. His eyes were half-lidded in exhaustion, but he was obviously in pain.  
"Tyler? Where does it hurt?"  
"Everywhere," he slurred.

He didn't know when more settlers joined their group, but they suddenly were there, ready to carry their leader inside to the infirmary.  
Mac got up when they took him away, just staring after them, unable to move.  
He heard Piper calling his name, but he couldn't really hear her after all. He wanted nothing else but to know that Tyler was alright.  
And judging from how weak he swung his bat that was not the case.

He felt someone gently pull him along into the Alley, let himself get dragged to the small fire burning in the center.

"Hey, he's going to be okay, brother."  
Comforting words. But he didn't feel comforted at all.  
"He is hurt, and it's my fault. I should've known he wasn't fit enough. I mean.. look how skinny he has gotten!"  
"Is he really eating?" Hancock asked.  
"Yes, he is almost constantly eating. And as far as I know he is not puking it up."  
He looked up into the ghoul's black eyes. He needed answers. He needed to know what was going on. He couldn't lie to himself any longer; otherwise Tyler was going to die. He felt that realisation run through his bones like a freezing winter breeze, seeping through his body only to leave him cold despite the fire burning in front of him.

"Guys, you should take a look at him," Piper called them over, and against his exhausted body's protests he got up and walked into the small shack. He wished he hadn't.

Tyler laid there without his jacket, shirt and armour, ribs, collarbone and hip bones showing through his deathly pale skin; partly pale, now that his torso was littered with blue and purple bruises that gave him more color than just white. His ribs looked badly beaten, and his shallow breaths indicated they were broken, or at least fractured. Nothing a Stimpak couldn't handle, but what about the rest? Looking so skinny was not healthy.

Once again someone he loved was dying right before his eyes, and he wasn't doing anything to help.

MacCready sat down on the chair next to the bed, while Hancock was still mindful enough to close the door to give their friend some privacy.  
"Tyler?" he held his hand, seeing how the knuckles stood out, how blue the flesh under his nails were, mocking his miserable state further at seeing his friend like this. "What the hell is going on?" His voice was strained, and the sniper realised he was holding back tears he wished to be able to let free. But not here. Not now.  
"I.. I don't know, Creads," the boy stared at the ceiling, "after we went to that factory... I just felt hungry. I always felt so hungry."  
The grip around his own hand tightened.  
"No matter how much I ate, I just... lost more weight. I thought it would pass if I were to eat more, but nothing helped."

"I'm scared, Robert."

He groaned, curling up again and resting on his side, back turned to his friends. 

"I don't wanna die."

"You're not going to die, Ty. We'll find a solution. You just stay strong like you've been the whole time," Mac responded, words full of determination. He wouldn't let someone else die again while he could still help it!

* * *

The three had decided to leave Tyler at the settlement for now, and send word to Preston with a provisioner on his way to Sanctuary. Dogmeat had refused to come with them, stubbornly laying next to the bed. MacCready wondered what adventures laid behind the two that the dog never left him alone when he was feeling bad. But that was a story for another time. Because he couldn't give Tyler up. He had to do something!

"So, what factory was he talking about?" Piper asked as they were on their way there.  
"Some old building we checked out recently. Someone from Diamond City asked us to get some weird inhalers. When we went in there I knew something was off, but I didn't know what exactly. I'll show you when we get there."  
"Wouldn't it be a good idea to ask that woman about what was in these things?" Piper pointed out, but the merc assured her that that was the second step they'd take.

The goddamn building looked the same as they had left it. The odd-looking ferals still laid around the place, and the safe was still locked.  
"Hm, never heard of this place before," the mayor mumbled, looking around the desk to see if there was anything to help them figure out the dark secrets that laid in this place.  
"Hancock, you think you can open the safe in that desk here? I tried last time, but it was too strong."  
The ghoul chuckled: "Anything for my favourite mercenary."  
Unlike pulling out some lock-picks as he had expected, the other loaded his shotgun instead, simply shooting the safe dial off.  
Piper crouched down and removed all items in the small space: documents, a holotape and some pre-war money.

She quickly began skimming over the texts, eyes widening.  
"Woah, whatever this place had been... it sure was in a lot of trouble," she concluded after a few minutes of silence.  
"What does it say?" The ghoul sat down on the desk, grabbing a little canister of jet from his pocket for his occasional hit.  
"This factory manufactured some sort of 'weight loss aid'. Apparently it had crazy side effects, like greying hair, forming of wrinkles, even hair loss, weakening of joints and bones in general, extreme decrease in weight, and... death."

"And how can one stop it?!" MacCready said louder than intended; but he couldn't help it after hearing the last side effect.  
"One second," she mumbled, something else on the papers keeping her attention.  
"Seems like there was another factory working on an antidote. Something to eject whatever is in the inhalers from the body."

"Wait, how did Tyler even come in contact with this shit?" the ghoul asked, looking almost disbelieving - as if the boy really had taken a hit.   
But MacCready knew better: "He fell into some pink goo. Here, I'll show you."

He walked into the next room, and pointed up at one of the tubes.  
The other two walked over and up the steps.

MacCready looked over the room again. Now that he knew what was going on, he finally understood.  
"Last time we were here, I knew something was off-looking with these ferals. They are all thinner than any other I've seen, let alone they have..," he crouched down to one of them, turning it on its back, "more wrinkles." He grabbed its arm with both hands, feeling disgusted with himself already, and gently bent the bone. A crack could be heard. Definitely weaker bones.

"That stuff smells horrible!" Piper commented, holding her nose shut.  
"Yep," was all Hancock had to add before quickly making his way back to the merc. "So, anything else in here to check out? Maybe they got the antidote stored here?"  
"No, we had searched the place thoroughly. There is no other locked safe, and the one I managed to open had nothing in it except some more inhalers."  
"Then let's quickly go to that other factory! Before that woman and Tyler have to suffer any longer."  
MacCready caught himself wishing that Piper hadn't mentioned her. It was her fault that Tyler was in this condition.  
But he wouldn't deny her her life if he was already on the way to grab the antidote anyway.

* * *

Tyler must have fallen asleep - something he was grateful for -, because he did not remember MacCready and the others leaving, nor a settler tending to his injuries by rubbing some sort of cream on it.  
He hissed and tried to pull away from the man's touch that stung his ribs.

"Don't worry, General. I am just applying some ointment to aid the healing process," the man informed him. He appeared pretty relaxed, but Tyler saw little glimpses of nervousness in his facial features. His eyes were masked from his view by his sunglasses.  
He was confused. Was he still in the Alley? Or in Sanctuary?  
"Where am I?"  
"You're in the Hangman's Alley. Please, don't move. You might puncture a lung." He rested a hand on Tyler's shoulder as he was about to get up.  
"Just use a Stimpak, it will be faster."  
"Unfortunately, that might only worsen your condition, General. Stimpaks lower the immune system. You will just have to rest for now."

A loud growling coming from his stomach interrupted the peace the boy had felt, and he groaned in pain. It felt like something was eating him from the inside out, when all he wished for was to eat something himself. But he felt too weak to move, so weak.. He couldn't even curl in on himself to at least pretend that that would protect him from whatever was destroying his body.  
"Please, make it stop," he whispered, staring up at the ceiling as that was the only thing he was able to do now.  
"I'm sure your friends will be back soon, General. They will be able to help. You cannot give up now," the man looked down at him with a reassuring smile, "The Commonwealth needs you."  
Tyler nodded lightly. He trusted him, and he trusted his friends.

A sudden jolt of pain ran through his body, focusing in his head. He gasped in surprise. It was enough of a shock to bring his frail arms up to his head and hold it, squeeze it until it would just stop, stop, stop!  
Dogmeat whined next to him, resting his front paws on the mattress.  
"General, what i-" Whatever the nurse was going to ask, the words caught in his throat in shock at something else. But Tyler didn't know what exactly was more shocking than him dying over here.

"Tyler!" he heard a familiar voice call out through the building haze surrounding his mind.  
"Cr-Creads," a faint smile snaked its way across his lips despite the pain he was in. Not even a second later the door to the small shack opened, and in stormed a hopeful-looking sniper. All that Tyler was able to see was how his best friend's smile faded, before everything got dark and quiet. Peaceful.

"We have to administer this now!" MacCready ordered the male nurse standing next to him, handing him the syringe filled with clear looking liquid in it.  
This was going to save him! Goddamnit, he was **not** going to die on him now! Not after he had sprinted the whole way back, disregarding his own safety running across the Commonwealth.

The man looked a bit uncertain of what to do, but quickly disregarded that to take a firm hold of Tyler's limp arm, and carefully injecting the antidote in his bloodstream. Mac may be a bit learned in first aid, but needles weren't his thing. He was always scared of accidentally putting the stuff in them somewhere they were not supposed to go.

Dogmeat continued to whine, still worried as his master didn't move.  
"Don't worry, Dogmeat, he'll be fine. He is pretty strong," he pet the dog's head, and as if he had understood him laid back down, reluctantly so.

MacCready turned to the stranger.  
"What happened while I was gone?"  
He looked up and away from Tyler, at least that was what the sniper suspected he was doing behind those sunglasses of his, and answered: "I was just tending to his wounds. He woke up right before I managed to finish. He was in pain and suddenly," he turned back to him, "his hair began to turn grey."  
Yeah, that was what he had seen as well just after storming into the infirmary.  
"What happened to him?"  
MacCready disregarded the man with a look of distrust. He didn't look, nor behaved like a settler that just witnessed something traumatic like this. His instincts told him something was off about this man, but once again his gut-feeling left him at a loss, and he couldn't tell what it was.

"Let's check if he's okay first," he ordered instead, leaning down to the boy's chest and listen to his pulse.  
His heartbeat was steady, maybe a little weaker than he wished, but the antidote should do its job soon and help his body return back to normal. He wasn't sure about the hair though. He gently held Tyler's hand with his right, his left hand running its fingers through his hair. The tips of his hair felt dry and dead, though the closer to his scalp they were, the healthier they seemed. So it couldn't have been too late!

"What's your name?" MacCready asked.  
"Ferris O'Sullivan. I'm new to the settlement," Ferris answered.  
He examined the man; short black hair, shaved clean face, the sunglasses that obscured the view to his eyes, simple, dirty clothes. A muscular build, but something told him the man was rather swift in his movement. Swift with his words, too.  
"You must be the famous mercenary Robert Joseph MacCready. The General's partner and companion."  
He nodded lightly. He supposed wandering with the Hero of the Commonwealth would eventually give him some sort of reputation.  
"Anyway," Ferris clasped his hands together, "what exactly happened to him?"  
"He fell into some pink goo used to help people lose weight before the war. Let's just say it worked too well."  
"And whatever you gave him will get him back to his feet?"  
"Yes.. hopefully," he mumbled the second part.

"If you want you can wait here until he wakes up. I'm sure he would want someone he knows close," Ferris offered. He crouched down and began to pet Dogmeat, who appreciated the love he was given. As dangerous as he could be when needed, he could also be gentle. Almost spoiled even.  
"I guess so," he answered, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
Hopefully Piper and Hancock weren't too late to give that woman in Diamond City the antidote. He wasn't worried about his own conscience if that woman did die, but Tyler was surely going to blame himself if she came to harm; after all, he brought these death-inhalers to her.

Minutes passed, and the sniper grew more agitated by the second, so that he chose to pass the time with some games that the boy carried around with him all the time. The Pipboy was removed from his wrist, and he searched the others backpack for some holotapes. He found a couple of them that didn't look like games at all, the cover orange and simple. His eyes widened and he realised what he had found.

_"Find anything interesting?"_   
_"A couple holotapes. I'll listen to them later."_

He immediately put one of them into the slot of the machine. A few seconds of silence, then a female voice: "I can't believe what I just heard! Weight Wellness supposedly managed to find a solution to our growing obesity problem in America! This invention seems ingenious. Jenny, I finally won't have to work out constantly, or watch what I eat anymore. You just use the inhaler once a week, and it will make you lose weight- bam, just like that! Maybe Mark will finally talk to me at work. And I will be able to go out to lunch with him, without being asked why I eat so "little". Aren't you working at Weight Wellness? Maybe you could.. y'know.. get me a few of them? You know how expensive the gym was! Please, Jenny!"

The first holotape ended there. MacCready slid the second one in.

"Harriet, please don't ask me to steal Weight Wellness property again. And if you didn't know, I am a _secretary_ , not a scientist or whatever those guys are doing in there. And for the love of God, do **not** use these things. Whatever is in them has some.... crazy side effects. Let alone it isn't healthy to lose weight so quickly or in that way. I know you never liked your body that much, but... you have to know that losing weight naturally is better than sucking on some damn inhaler that promises a better life! It cannot be true. Just.. stay away from the stuff. Trust me. I've heard some bad things happening thanks to these things."

A door opening interrupted Jenny, and she quickly ended the recording.  
So whoever this Jenny-person was, she knew of whatever was going on at that factory, but she still kept working for them. Great ethics. Not that MacCready was much better, but he at least had his principles.

Ultimately the tapes did nothing other than worry him more, despite there not being much news.  
Out of his peripheral vision he could see something moving, just slightly. His eyes quickly moved from the Pipboy to the man laying there.  
Hope sparked in his chest before he could stop it, and he grabbed Tyler's hand which appeared to be grasping for something.  
"Ro..Robert," he whispered, and MacCready listened, waiting for more words that would tell him that he felt okay, that he was going to be okay, "Bucket."  
He looked around, spotting one filled with used syringes and Stimpaks and carelessly poured the wastes out, handing it to Tyler.  
The other sat up, hugging the bucket before opening his mouth.  
He didn't seem to have any convulsions. The same pink goo from the giant container just... came out. Along with some blood, but it wasn't so much that he needed to worry.  
Tyler spit the rest out, wiping his mouth with his arm.  
"Much better," was all he said, handing the bucket back to him. He placed it down on the floor, just continuing to stare at his friend in disbelief. He looked calm, and some color already had returned to his skin.

"Tyler," MacCready started, unsure of what he was going to say, but after a few seconds he couldn't stop himself from talking even if he had tried, "Jesus Christ, I was so worried." He wrapped his arms around him, feeling comfort run through his body when the other did the same. "I thought you were going to die! Why haven't you told me something was up? This stuff could have killed you, and.. and.. I wouldn't be able to-"

"Relax, Creads. It's over. At least I feel much better," the boy pulled away, giving him a reassuring smile. "Thank you."

He let himself get pulled closer by the nape of his neck, thinking he was just going to get hugged again, when dry - but warm - lips grazed his. He let them rest there, when a loud and happy bark interrupted the bliss he felt; ah, yes. Dogmeat and the stranger were still there, witnessing what was happening. He blushed, leaning back and rubbing his cheeks in an effort to hide his embarrassment.  
Ferris didn't seem to mind, if he had even seen it while petting the dog, who was now jumping up on the bed, licking his owner across the face.  
"Dogmeat, I know, I know! Calm down!" Tyler tilted his head away, a big smile on his face. 

He missed the intimacy this moment just had had. Nothing and no one was there with them while they had been so close; not the world and its monsters, nor his worries. He had felt so at ease. Like with Lucy.

"Damn.. anyone else starvin', or is it just me?" The question pulled him out of his thoughts, and it worried him once again.  
Tyler must have seen his expression, and he sat up fully again now with Dogmeat waiting patiently on the floor for them to leave and play with him, or whatever dogs liked to do nowadays.  
"Don't worry, Creads. I feel okay. And if I want to get my strength back, I will have to eat something."

"Good point, I will get you two something," Ferris interjected and left the infirmary.  
"Creep," MacCready huffed once he was gone. "Had waited here the whole time with you, even while.. y'know."  
Tyler just laughed. As light-heartedly as always.  
"You sure you feel fine?"  
"Yes, Creads. I feel better thanks to you. Maybe a little cold." He hugged himself, and MacCready hated how he still was so thin, his arms as well so the boy could wrap his hand around it. But he had to remind himself that this wouldn't be for long.  
He got up, grabbing the other's shirt and handing it to him. He pulled it on carefully, but he looked more comfortable already.

"I hope that girl is alright," he mumbled. "And that no one else is going to fall into that tube. That stuff tasted disgusting."  
"Ah, yes. The most horrible part of this: the taste. How could I have forgotten that I have a cuisine chef at my side?"  
Tyler laughed.

Ferris came back with two cups of noddles, this time polite enough to excuse himself and leave them alone.

They ate in silence. Mac ate slower, not feeling such a strong appetite after all the extreme anxiety he had been through.  
"You gonna eat that?" Tyler asked, placing his already finished cup on the mattress.  
Mac rose an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "No, here."  
Tyler looked grateful and took the offered meal. But before digging in, he pressed a kiss to the sniper's cheek, and he couldn't help but lean in. He could get used to this - if there weren't constant jabs from the universe interrupting their moments.

The door opened, and Piper and Hancock hurried inside, wild looks on their faces; bad news.  
MacCready leaned away, glaring at them. He knew they weren't at fault for disturbing them (the writer is). He felt frustration run through his bones, so strong he would want to stomp his feet on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, but he held back, disregarding the dirty smirk plastered on the ghoul's face after witnessing what he just had.  
Tyler just continued eating next to him, apparently not as flustered. Yeah.. no shame from those two, remembered.  
Piper walked over, kneeling in front of her friend.  
"You're alive.. Oh god," she whispered, tears building in her eyes.  
Tyler frowned. "Don't cry, Piper. I'm okay."  
"I see that you are.. that's why I'm crying, Ty," she replied, the boy tilting his head in confusion.  
"You're sad that I'm... alive?"  
The reporter let out a laugh, the ridiculousness of that statement not lost on even the dog, who growled quietly.  
"Oh Tyler," she shook her head. "Nevermind. I'm just glad we weren't too late for you."

Hancock sighed, knowing they would have to break the news to him.  
"The woman you brought those inhalers... we were too late. Much too late," Piper started.  
Hancock continued for her: "We asked some people in the Upper Stands, and they told us that they hadn't seen her in a while. We went to her house, and.. let ourselves in. She must have been laying on the floor for a while. The inhalers were all over the place. I would say overdose."  
Tyler set the noodle cup aside, looking down at the floor, hands in his lap.  
"I..-" he started, but MacCready already knew what he was going to say, and cut him short: "Nope, it's not your fault! She paid us to bring her something, she should've known of the risks. It was a miracle she even knew of these things to begin with."  
"But if I had said something sooner then this wouldn't have happened! She could still be alive."  
"It's in the past, brother. You can't change it. Sure this wasn't the greatest way to go, but everyone dies sooner or later."

Tyler yawned, laying back down on the bed.  
Piper ran her fingers through his grey hair. "We'll let you rest a little more, okay? Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake up."  
MacCready nodded, signalling that he would also stay.

"Alright," the boy's eyes already drifted shut and it looked awfully adorable to the merc, "thanks again.. for.. saving me."

He soon was asleep, looking as peaceful as he hadn't in a while.


	7. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler's condition is catching up to him, and MacCready is sure it will lead to vast consequences.  
> So what better way than to get the General to control his anger without the use of drugs by yelling at him?
> 
> No? Not a good idea? Alright then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys. This took a little longer. Despite the holidays I was busy with school-related stuff.
> 
> Okay, who cares really? You're here for Tyler and MacCready.  
> So, just a couple seconds more of your time: If you have any requests, except smut, then you can write them in the comments. The chapter will be dedicated to you then, of course :)
> 
> Have fun!

Tyler had gotten back on his feet soon. He was able to eat again. He was gaining his mass back, but he was still a bit unsure of him using the dumbbells he had brought home. Sure, he needed to be strong, but Mac still fussed that he should lay down, relax more often, maybe read a comic. And whenever he asked, the other complied.

MacCready had noticed that Tyler hadn't used Med-X as often while still sick, but the consumption was picking up again. Some raiders blocking their path and expecting money for them to be allowed to pass? A quick fight and a syringe of that stuff afterwards. Calls for help from settlements every second day for a couple weeks? Med-X was the answer. MacCready was not sure if taking so many was bad, especially since Tyler needed them to not start smashing heads in randomly, but it was never nice to watch him injecting that stuff into his veins. Neither was talking to him minutes or even hours after.  
His mind was obviously clouded, and he was often back to the way he behaved when they had first met: confused, quiet, high. Not completely himself.

After one cold morning, he decided that maybe consulting the General's friends would be an idea. Find a way for Tyler to handle his emotions without the use of the drugs.

Mac had gotten out of bed after Tyler for once, and found him standing in the bathroom. He walked up to him, setting his hands on his shoulders. He had wanted to hug him, but he wasn't completely sure still if they were a thing. Let alone the drug use of him made him unsure to give into his feelings; he could lose him to the demon's that were haunting Tyler's mind.

"Mornin', you little gnome," he set his chin on top of Tyler's head.  
The other greeted him back with a quiet "Good morning", but didn't stop fumbling with his hair.  
"What are you doing?" he asked, raising a brow at whatever antic the man was practicing this time.  
His look of confusion shifted from his own face in the reflection to Mac's eyes.  
"I am just wondering if I am getting old already.. why is my hair so grey?"

Now he would understand if Tyler was baffled about that weeks ago, which he had been. So hearing him talk about this again as if he hadn't seen his face and hair everyday since then was concerning.

"Ty," the merc started, facial expression tensing, "you've looked like that for a while now. After the weird serum, remember?"

Tyler looked at him for a few more seconds, then back at his reflection. His frown turned into a smile quickly and he facepalmed.   
"Oh, yeah, of course."

Now was the best time as any to talk about this, Mac figured, not enjoying watching Tyler lose himself in the slightest.

"I understand you need this stuff," he started, letting go of the shorter man and instead leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, "but I am getting really worried. I am worried already, damnit! I think you should learn to handle your anger without them, unless for an emergency or something."

Tyler's smile didn't weaken, not even the twitch of an eyelid. Something pierced MacCready's chest as he realized how he could imagine the boy trying to be defensive about this, maybe become sad or tense; but all he saw standing in front of him was a junkie in disguise. He liked Tyler. He really fucking liked him, and that was why he would help him, just like he had helped the former gunner to get rid of his own past demons.

"Say something, for fu- just be... responsive!" He almost yelled. He was getting angrier by the second, seeing how everything he said was simply passing by Tyler's head without actually understanding him.

He took a deep breath, knowing that these emotions wouldn't get him far, and looked Tyler up and down. He looked fit enough for a small trip.

"How about we go to Diamond City? See how the others are doing?" Mac requested.

Silence.

Then: "Sure." And a shrug of shoulders.

Hopefully the others were as willing to help him as he was.

* * *

"Where are we going again?"

"Still Diamond City. I've told you three times by now, counting in the bathroom," MacCready answered, annoyance slowly eating at him and making his head hurt. Why couldn't a slap to the face fix stuff like this? The laws of physics or whatever should have included a good slap to the face to regenerate brain cells... 

No, he shouldn't think about Tyler like this. It was not only mean, but wrong. He had gotten so far despite his condition and the fact of being over 200 years old. Additionally, he led the Minutemen and talked back at Elder Maxson, something surely slightly dumb, but also brave– and he had succeeded, not getting them or the captives killed that day.

He still had so many questions about him though. Were his parents dead? After all, his whole family should have been cryonically frozen. Were they all living happily in the Vault while he was up here, alone? That simply didn't make sense. He had told him he missed his friends, so they definitely were gone.

"Tyler, were your parents also in that Vault? I mean, surely they got families inside, and you told me you lived with them," he asked carefully. But curiosity was weighing heavier than decency, so he posed the question.  
They continued to walk the path past the Jalbert Brothers Disposal. Tyler put his hand in his pocket, the outline of his fist in his jeans telling him he was holding onto something.  
"No. My father was a soldier. He died when I was 10. And my mother..." The boy sighed, and his footsteps got slower. The sniper noticed how Tyler's facial features tensed again; the Med-X must have been wearing off again. "I need to sit down for a second."

MacCready frowned. He had hit the nail right on the head. He knew talking about stuff was beneficial for one's mental health. He had felt better when telling him about the gunners, and he also had seen how relaxed his friend had seemed at the little party he had thrown after talking partly about his past.

So he complied, leading Tyler to a boulder on the side of the road with his hand on his shoulder, despite the shorter man being able to walk by himself.  
They sat down, Tyler also removing his backpack to fish out something to drink. MacCready waited patiently as he grabbed a Nuka-Cola, opening the cap with his teeth and handing him the piece of currency.  
He was thankful it wasn't hot. But the weather could have been a little better. The grey clouds overhead gave him the vibe of a rainy day- and he surely did not want to walk the rest of the way to Diamond City with water pouring down on them.

"The day the bombs dropped was... not even a joyful one," he started, voice quiet and gaze fixed on a can lying on the road.  
"It was sunny outside, and everything was just like always- which probably was the sad part. Mother and I lived near the Vault in Sanctuary Hills, so it had been a quick way there when the alarms went off. We ran up the hill, got past the soldiers. We had already stepped on the platform, when someone informed us that she was not on the list, that it had been her husband, my dad who had been dead for nine years already, to be allowed inside. And instead of letting her into the vault... they just..," Tyler sniffed. "The bombs had dropped and as the platform lowered itself I was able to watch the pressure wave of it alone come closer, as my mother stood behind me, being held back by a soldier. She screamed, not wanting me to be all alone down there, knowing of my condition. As the platform overhead was closing, I saw how she tried to wave goodbye, yelling something, but I couldn't hear it. I had just been stuck, unable to move, hear or see properly. Once I regained my senses I tried to jump up, and hold onto the edge, but I was too short, and I had to watch her being blown away by the bomb." He sobbed, body folding under the weight of the events and hiding his face in his lap, arms coming around to hug himself.

He had to watch his own mother die, while he had stood there, doing nothing. MacCready knew that feeling. He knew how it was to just be stuck in a trance, unable to act, until it was too late. But he also knew that one had to eventually forgive themselves. Not that he had done so fully for himself, but he was working on it, telling himself that Lucy wouldn't be angry with him, making sure he knew that he didn't make the mistake alone. Sometimes bad things.. just happened. And one had to get over that.

"Don't think it's your fault, Tyler," MacCready whispered, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulders. "If it was anyone's fault, then those who didn't let her in! You hear me?"

Tyler nodded, but he didn't move from his miserable position. "I sometimes think that.. maybe I should have been a little taller, so I could have joined my mommy in her death."  
"Leopold! Don't say that! I know it's one of the worst things to lose someone you love, let alone right in front of you, but you're _here_ now. You have others who love you; _I_ \- Nick, Piper, Hancock love you like a friend. And I'm sure your mother had wanted you to live a happy life- and seeing as you're now the brave General of the Minutemen, she couldn't be more proud of you."

The sobbing continued, but after a little while was getting less again.

"Don't call me Leopold," Tyler nagged, and playfully punched MacCready's shoulder.  
Mac huffed exaggeratedly: "If it gets your attention, I will do it a lot more often."  
Tyler just looked up at him, his eyes rimmed red from crying. Then he looked down again. "You probably wonder why even my last day in my old life hadn't been nice either..."  
The merc kept quiet.  
"I have told you already that I was a rather.. rebellious kid. School was too boring, and music was the greatest thing I had. This caused my mother and me to fight often. My day had started with her yelling about my bad grades, and that she was disappointed I was constantly wasting my time and energy with other things. Even told me that Sam was a bad influence on me. So what did I do? I talked back. Told her that I was going to move out, that I wasn't going to take her shit anymore. That I hated her.. it wasn't even true. I loved her. She was my mom, damnit! And then the alarms sounded. One of the last things I said to her was "I hate you". And I can't change that now, or ever."

MacCready felt a dark aura drift from the other over to him. He must have really felt bad about this. But... "If there is one thing I know about good parents, it is that they do not stop loving their child. Sure, you fought, but I am just as certain that she still loved you; and she knew that you loved her." He knew that he would always be there for Duncan. Even if he didn't label himself a good father.  
"I.. you're right," the tears were wiped away, and so was the dark aura poisoning the air around them. "You're pretty wise, you know that?"  
Mac shrugged: "Wish I could hear that more often."

"C'mon, we should go. Wouldn't want to get caught in the rain," the General ordered, and MacCready couldn't decline with his own sentiment for the weather.

They walked down the path, planning on taking the route past the brewery, but as they reached the bridge they were greeted by an obnoxious sight. Two soldiers from the Brotherhood were seemingly patrolling the area near their post in the Police Station. They didn't wear their usual tin cans. Their uniforms gave their poor life choices away. And still without the protection, they had the audacity to talk badly about the Minutemen, and especially their General.

"Oh, look! The kid is here to teach us a lesson again!" The man started. His hair was cut very short, and he had a scar on his cheek. The woman next to him chuckled, probably having heard of Tyler's crazy stunt a while back at the airport. Despite the patrolmen sunglasses she wore, it was obvious she was eyeing the man up and down.  
"Yeah, Rhys, I don't believe that's him. He doesn't look threatening at all. If Elder Maxson really had complied to the idiotic idea of this General, then it at least had been an adult. Y'know, someone to take seriously." They laughed.

Mac and Tyler had stopped walking. One of them was quickly losing their temper, while the other considered letting him do as he wished.  
References to Tyler being a child, irresponsible, or not to take serious. That was what got the guy really going.

"He had done and achieved more in his shorter life than you two combined. Acting honorable and fair makes him more grown-up than your hole sect!" MacCready defended him.  
But these two dumbasses certainly didn't care about that fact, bending the argument in the way they saw fit. "Ah, yes. Letting these ghouls roam around your settlements is a great idea.. until they start eating the innocent humans, of course," the woman responded.

Because every fucking ghoul just went feral with the snap of one's fingers. Seemed logical.

"They used to be human. And many are more humane than you," the sniper continued to argue.

Tyler was gripping his bat tightly next to him.

"Exactly, used to be. Until they became abominations," Rhys growled. "Now how about you stop trying to preach us your faulty ways and continue babysitting him? We got something _important_ to do."

Tyler's face turned red, and he grabbed his bat from its holster. MacCready really didn't want the whole Brotherhood going against them, and already brought his hands up to take away the man's weapon, but he was too slow. The General jumped forward, at Rhys, and swung his bat diagonally down on him. The guy had rather good reflexes, the sniper couldn't deny that as he watched him jump back as well to avoid being hit.

The first two swings hit the air, and Rhys had enough time to lift his gun, but the third hit its target, leaving the laser gun to fly off the bridge and down into the water. A small mistake from the BoS soldier was to let his gaze follow the gun, leaving Tyler the opportunity to get a direct hit to his left leg. The man cried out in pain as the saw pierced his flesh.

The scream pulled MacCready back into action and he lifted his gun and aiming at the woman before she could intervene.  
"Don't move! Or your little gang will have one less puppet to play with!" he threatened. She glared at him, and her grip on her pistol tightened. But she kept still for now.

As the blade was stuck in Rhys' leg, the soldier punched Tyler in the face, hard enough to leave the boy sprawling on the cement. He didn't have a chance to get up before his face was being assaulted again and again. Tyler kicked the other off of him with all his might and got up, not minding the blood pouring down his nose and past his lips. He once again jumped forward, kicking Rhys hard in the stomach, thus pushing him hard against the railing of the bridge. It was a kick to the solar plexus, leaving the soldier heaving and regaining his senses fully, with time Tyler didn't let him have. His calloused hands wrapped around the man's throat, a furious, but simultaneously, oddly calm expression painted across his face, the blood making him look somehow less human- less like himself. MacCready couldn't explain it, but it felt like Tyler was another person at the moment, and he was terrified despite knowing his friend wouldn't hurt him.

He paid for his inattentiveness, watching as the woman pulled up her pistol, and pulling the trigger without aiming properly. He moved to the side and shot her in the head. He looked down at himself, seeing where he had sustained damage. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and numbing his pain, and the rush only grew when seeing his right forearm bleed.

They had to leave. Without doing any more damage. Starting something with the Brotherhood of Steel would surely come to bite them in the ass later on.

So he ran over to Tyler, attempting to pry his hands off of the other's throat.  
"Tyler! Stop it! Killing him won't do any good, as much as he is a jerk."  
Rhys' lips were blue already. He had to do something, and with Tyler's strong grip he would need to find a solution quick!

Which was why he swung his left arm around Tyler's neck after stepping behind him, and pulling as hard as he could.

" **Stop it already**!"

He felt the resistance weaken, then loosen completely. Rhys gasped for air, kneeling on the ground. Then he coughed out: "Ha! This mercy is going to be your end one day!"

Tyler didn't look impressed by this passive threat. He just stared down at the man he had almost killed in cold blood, fists still clenched and breath heavy.  
MacCready grabbed his bat quickly and handed it to Tyler, before pulling him away from the scene. "Please, Tyler, let's leave!" he begged, and luckily his friend complied, letting himself being dragged away and across the bridge, not looking back once.

MacCready did look back though, in fear that the man would attempt to shoot them in the back, or that other people would arrive soon.

And he watched the soldier kneel in front of the dead woman, head bowed down, face expressionless.

* * *

They had taken a break at a tunnel underneath the train tracks leading from the settlement Oberland Station.

Tyler was still calming himself down, hand rummaging through his backpack in search of his favourite poison, while MacCready was busy cleaning his wound. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off he felt sluggish, and the searing pain in his arm didn't make him feel any better.

When he saw his boss pull out the syringe something snapped in his head, and he walked over, punching it out of his hand.

" **No! You are not going to forget about what happened just now!** " He yelled. He was incredibly angry with him. Even the sight of Tyler's blood on his lower face and the dark blue bruise forming didn't spark the usual worry in him.  
" **This fight was unnecessary and irresponsible. Childish, for fuck's sake!** **If you don't want to be labeled as a kid, then goddamn act like an adult already!** "  
MacCready knew he was fighting fire here, but he couldn't keep silent and let the flames eat away at him, too.  
Tyler just kept silent, staring down at his empty and shaking hands.

"Are you even listening to me?!" MacCready was getting impatient when he didn't hear a response.  
He stumbled back out of fright when Tyler suddenly got up. He didn't like the look on his face, the hollowness in his eyes. 

Tyler grabbed his backpack off the floor and emptied it from all the Med-X it contained, handing a bandage and Stimpak to the mercenary, before swinging the bag over his shoulders again and walking towards the bridge on the other end of the tunnel.  
The sniper was confused at first, and stepped towards the other to stop him.  
"Ty-"  
"Do **not** follow me, Robert."  
"W-what? Where are you going? I-"  
"I swear I'll knock you out if you don't shut up!" He didn't even turn around to pose his threat. But MacCready knew not to anger him any more than necessary right now. He was also certain that Tyler would follow through with the warning. So he just stared after his boss as he walked across the bridge and out of his sight eventually.

He had really done it this time, hadn't he? Was he fired now? Was he still Tyler's friend?

Was he going to come back?

* * *

"MacCready, tell me what happened already! I can't watch your sad face much longer," Hancock demanded, sitting down next his friend on the sofa in his office after arranging some alcohol in front of them on the coffee table. The merc made a move to grab a beer, but the ghoul pulled his hand away, stating: "Booze is for talkers."

The other sighed, knowing he owed an explanation to him after storming into his office. He had walked to Goodneighbor by himself after Tyler had just walked off, a heavy feeling weighing down in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He avoided all the monsters on his way that he could, feeling too weak to even lift his rifle. He just wanted to sleep, and what could help better than getting shitface drunk? Much else could help better, actually. Like talking about what had happened.

So he formed all his jumbled thoughts into some coherent sentences.  
"Tyler and I were on the way to Diamond City, when we were sort of stopped by a Brotherhood patrol. These assh- jerks started to insult him. You know Tyler... he started to fight with them. One was killed, by me out of necessity, and the other just barely avoided getting choked to death by him. I was so... angry at him for engaging in this fight. It was totally unnecessary!" He gripped his injured arm, squeezing a little. It hurt, but it kept him grounded as the pulling feeling in his chest got stronger with every word he spoke.  
"We walked away and squatted nearby to get our bearings, and.. I just went off on him; yelled at him for being so irresponsible and careless." Remembering the scene that played mere hours ago was hard on him. He wanted to cry, scream and punch something. He wanted to punch himself, because in the end he had fucked up. He had shot that woman dead. He could have aimed for a less fatal spot, but his reflexes had outdone him again. They should have kept walking, but he had decided to take part in the conversation. He should have let Tyler use a Med-X. Maybe he would still be here, and safe, if he had.

"Hey, hey, take a deep breath," Hancock attempted to calm him down, and set his hand on his shoulder. The sniper hadn't even noticed how laboured his breathing had gotten. He tried to calm down. He really did. But the cold temperature around him made him shiver and lose focus again. MacCready wrapped his arms around himself, one hand setting over his heart to feel it beating quickly.  
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-," he choked on his words when a quiet sob forced its way out of his body. He felt embarrassed to cry, even in front of the ghoul he knew for a while now.  
"No, don't give me that apology-crap. You're sad, so be it. All I want you to do right now is to breathe. Take your time."  
The encouraging words helped the dark whispers in his head to quiet down a little, but the strain in his chest remained.  
The cold remained.  
The worry and guilt remained.

"Sit straighter, lean back," the ghoul ordered, and MacCready complied, noticing how it was easier to draw in a breath.

Once again he had to put all the words in his mind into order. He didn't want to be a hypocrite and urge Tyler to talk about such topics, when he wouldn't do the same.  
"I had planned to take him to Diamond City to see the others, get him to stop using Med-X all the time. I just.. just couldn't watch him doing this to himself anymore!" he hid his eyes from view by laying his arm over them. "He just was becoming less and less of himself once more, and it," he struggled to speak out loud what he feared so dearly to be true. "It hurt."

Hancock nodded, lighting himself a cigarette and handing it to the sniper. He took a drag, feeling his body relax with the rush of nicotine.

"I get that. You care very much for him. More so than me, Piper or Nick," the ghoul stated, as if he hadn't just admitted to know MacCready's secret crush on the man.  
"I- how.. I would never..," he stammered, cheeks heating up and finally distracting him from the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in his bones after Tyler had left.  
"Oh, don't try to hide it, brother. We all can see you like him. And haven't you noticed he likes you, too?"  
Mac was confused. "No, I don't think I have."  
"Wow, and I thought you were the perceiving type. Had there never been a situation in which Tyler had made a _move_. Anything?"

Now that Hancock mentioned it...  
The kiss weeks ago. In the Hangman's Alley. The shyer one before at the lake near Sanctuary. The way Tyler included him into his life fully, and acceptingly.  
He supposed he really could be dense.  
Or maybe he couldn't accept the fact that someone liked him like that after all the horrible things he had done. Lying to Lucy, getting her killed. Leaving his son back in the Capital Wasteland.

He sat up again, taking another drag from the cigarette offered to him. He could imagine Lucy in front of him, nagging at him that he deserved to be happy. That he was not as bad of a person as he thought himself to be.

"Okay, even if that was true, what does it matter now? The reason I am here on my own is because Tyler left."  
"Left?"  
"Yes, left. Just walked away after I screamed at him. He threw away all Med-X from his bag, and walked off without telling me where to, or when he would be back."

Hancock chuckled next to him, and the merc glared at him.  
"What's so funny?"  
"Someone is just trying to find himself, brother. I trust that Tyler will watch out to not get himself killed. We should leave him be for a few days."

Doubts still flew through his head, but he wanted to trust Hancock's judgement. He knew of his wild sprees, doing irresponsible things; but also eventually managing to find himself after all.

But with Tyler gone, what was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to continue taking the odd jobs here and there. He had tasted the comfort of having friends and people to rely on for too long, leaving him weirdly exposed now.

"But what about Tyler's responsibilities? He is the leader of the Minutemen. They will notice he is gone very quickly."  
"So tell them."  
"...I don't think that is a very good idea."  
"Well, it's the only thing you can do now. Or do you want to follow him? I'd like to see you try."

He didn't like that Hancock was right. He could hole up somewhere and hide, make his time pass in miserable slow motion, or get a move on and tell Preston that he would need to play substitute for a while.

"Alright, I'll go to the Castle tomorrow."  
"Good," the ghoul smiled smugly, glad to have won this argument and additionally having calmed down the other man, "now how about some rum? In honour of our dear friend growing up?"  
He opened a bottle of the booze and filled two smaller glasses with it, handing one to MacCready.

"To Tyler, bringing the whole Commonwealth together."  
"To Tyler Leopold Stehli."

* * *

_"Gone? What do you mean 'gone'?"_   
_"Gone. He had to go somewhere, but he didn't tell me where, or when he would be back. But I am sure he will be turning up at some settlement in a few days."_

_Preston was taking it better than expected, but he was obviously still apprehensive. Not telling where he went was normal. But alone? That was another story._

_"Garvey, we have to understand that he needs a break from time to time. He is still just a kid, to a certain extent. Leading an army in a world that isn't even his own must be stressful. But you and I both know him enough that he would not abandon us for long," MacCready argued, and he knew it got through to the other man, whose shoulders got less tense._   
_"I suppose you're right. Still, we need to take care of the General's tasks while he is away. I'm sure you're free now, so you wouldn't mind helping with some of them, right?"_   
_"Sure."_

As it turned out he could share the joy of Tyler's minor tasks, while Preston discussed strategies with other's in charge of various things; like guard duty, spots for best use of stationing turrets, distribution of work to the settlers and Minutemen and so on.

So he was here at the Castle, helping to rebuild the walls out in the growing cold.

Already after a day of carrying bricks or stones, metal and wood, the settlers around him were getting anxious, having heard the news from somewhere; most likely from Preston.

"What, the General's missing?"  
"That can't be!"  
"He wouldn't go alone, something must have happened."

And the first they turned to "civilly discuss" this with him. He felt their burning gazes boring into his head whenever he walked past them, and heard their whispers. The accusations were quiet at first, but the more people believed that he had something to do with the vanishing of their leader, the louder the voices in his own head appeared to get, the colder the guilt's grasp grew around his heart. He knew he shouldn't have let him leave, but he also new that it seemingly was important to Tyler, who had left without his temporary cures.

The next day wasn't much better. It was worse, actually.

"Do you think that carrying around scrap will make us forgive you, **Gunner**?"  
The lady, who had stopped him to ask this very valuable and interesting question aloud for a few others to hear, was looking up at him angrily.  
Apparently there had been people holding a grudge against him for a while now. Thanks to Tyler's presence, they hadn't acted on their need to confront him yet.  
MacCready had been focused on keeping himself busy, and was too surprised about the sudden question that he didn't have an answer. He searched desperately to find one, but he had been too slow.

"My mother joined this fight of yours! She died because of _your_ mistakes! I don't understand why the General had agreed to help you," a young man yelled, stepping closer. And the coldness in his body grew at the words.

A third one gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn around. A tall man he thought he recognised from somewhere held the collar of his duster tightly, lifting him off the ground slightly. He got close to his face so he was able to smell his bad breath, and huffed: "My brother told us what happened. One of your Gunner-friends told them the truth about you! You're just using us. Waiting to gain our trust to then betray us like you did with these assholes!" Seemingly the man and his brother looked alike. He had seen his brother taking part in the ambush. He was let down again only to be pushed to the ground. The air escaped his lungs for a moment, and he realised with rising panic that he was too scared to move as the mob got closer, trapping him in a circle. The sun was positioned perfectly for him to have to shield his eyes from the rays and watch the shaded shapes come closer.

He had to leave. He had to hide, somewhere where they wouldn't find him. But he couldn't.

A part in him questioned whether the man was right. What if he was using them all? His feelings for Tyler were genuine, he thought. He was sure. But this movement of his? The Commonwealth ganging up against the Institute, Brotherhood of Steel and monsters... it just seemed so unlikely.

"What? Speechless?"  
"He probably is just shocked that we figured it out, let alone confronted him about it," a woman spat.

He didn't understand why he was so scared. A gang of people spewing shit had never stopped him before, and deep down he knew that they wouldn't hurt him, at least not out in the open like this.

" **Hey** , what the hell is going on here? Get back to work! We don't want any other monster from the sea to crawl in here again."  
A hoarse female voice. And right now also the voice of his saviour: Ronnie Shaw.

The group dispersed immediately, and he quickly got up, not feeling like embarrassing himself any more than he already had. If Hancock had seen him now, he surely would've laughed, wouldn't he?

Ronnie stepped in front of him, looking him up and down to see if they had hurt him. When seeing no other damage other than to his clothes, which had gotten a little dirty, she let out a huff: "Can't believe these people. We are better than these raiders, and they still started a fight; all against one, no less."  
She looked into his eyes. "What did they want?"  
"Oh, nothing much."  
"Don't lie to me, youngster! I have seen my fair share of fights and rackets, with various motivations. And when looking at you it seems they wanted to scare you."  
"Don't pretend to know me! I am _fine_!"

He already turned around to walk to Tyler's private quarters in the Castle, when Ronnie grabbed him by his arm, her grip rather firm.  
"I know I am not one to turn to with stuff like this, but I'm sure Preston would like to hear about this issue. I may be old, but my noggin is still working well. I heard about the doubts and fears towards you for a while now, that you might jump ship when it gets convenient- well, let me tell you: You don't look like a bootlicker."

With that she let him go, and he could finally retreat to his shared room here.

_Damn jerks. Getting bullied by the Brotherhood, and now by those I am fighting for?! And I didn't even defend myself._

They probably wouldn't have believed him anyway. What was the use to attempt to set things straight if they were not willing to listen?

He opened the door and threw it shut behind him, locking them to find some sort of comfort or feeling of safety.

What was the use of trying to fix something that had already been damaged?

He grabbed himself a bottle of bourbon - not his first choice, but it would have to do - lit himself a cigarette, and sat down on the bed, back leaning against the headboard.

"Darn people, always thinking they know everything," he grumbled to nobody.

The bourbon tasted like ass. He never fancied this elegant shit. But it would take his mind off things.

Time surely was passing, but he didn't know how fast. There were no windows in this room, and the only light source came form the lamp on the ceiling, illuminating the space poorly enough to give the colours around him a somehow depressing tinge.

MacCready wanted to stop drinking, go out there and confront these settlers. He wanted to tell them how they were wrong in so many ways about them! But he wasn't Tyler. He wasn't good at motivational or inspiring speeches.

Self-doubt trapped him in this room. Shadows led his hands around the neck of the next bottle.

He didn't care what he was going to drink next. He just knew it burned his throat pleasantly, and the invisible force urged him to keep drinking.

An odd dream pulled him out of his drunken sleep. He tried to recall it, but the images he had seen vanished the more he held onto them.  
All it left was the feeling of deep despair, worry and a heavy weight in his chest. The alcohol had worn off enough to leave his head throbbing, but not to make his movements as smooth as they usually were.

He was sure he was going to puke when setting his eyes upon the total of four bottles he must have emptied by himself, and rather fast as well.  
And since he didn't need anyone to hear him do so, he walked to the door quietly, peeking out into the hallway.  
It was already quiet and dark outside, except for the lamps on the walls, which never really were off in order to see anything and be ready "at a minutes' notice".  
Well, he would need to sneak out in order to not be seen by any of the patrols... no, that was dumb. He just needed to stay far enough away so they wouldn't smell the traces of alcohol.

So he grabbed his rifle and hat, and left the General's quarters as silently as possible to not disturb any people sleeping on the few beds positioned in the hallways.  
He made it out into the inner courtyard. Patrols were mainly overhead, so he walked as confidently as a hungover man could. He reached the northern construction site. Where there had been a collapsed wall before, now was a partly reconstructed one. There still was space for him to slip through between planks, and he used this little hiding space to take a look at the stationed Minutemen on guard posts, unseen.  
There was some shrubbery he could hide in to then take his little walk outside of the walls of the main base.

He didn't understand his need to go unnoticed. They wouldn't hurt him, but he didn't want them to witness the state he was currently in, as well as start a fight once more.

He ducked into the bushes and sat there, wondering how to go about this now. And then wondered as to how dumb one could be. There was a Stealth Boy laying around somewhere in Tyler's quarters, he was sure.

So going back to get it he did, and once grabbing it and hiding the object under his duster, he snuck his way to the bushes again; all the while making sure that no one saw him. And he presumed no one did.

He pressed the small red button on the stealth device, and watched himself disappear. Sneaking over to the small diner and its parking lot was a lot easier now, and after rounding a few corners of collapsed buildings, the thing already gave up on him. But that was fine, he had passed Supermutant territory without problems.

What would be good to know was where he was going. It was supposed to be a walk, but why not just sleep somewhere else? Not like anyone was waiting for him- they'd all be glad if he was gone!

So he walked along streets, drunkenness still lulling his body to move a little swayingly.

He barely reacted when out of nowhere he saw a stop-sign coming closer to his head way too fast. Then it hit him; literally.  
The world spun a few times, and turned red before going completely dark.


	8. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wakes up bound to an uncomfortable chair, with ugly faces surrounding him, and probably the worst headache he has had in a while.
> 
> He wonders if he deserves this.

He had had the weirdest dream in a while, weirder than the one last night.  
Sneaking out of the Castle two times, because he was too scared of the _settlers_ , and forgot the existence of a Stealth Boy; something that wouldn't have happened if he had been awake.

His eyes were crusted over with sleepiness, but as he attempted to lift his hands to rub them he noticed he was unable to.  
Another weak pull told him that he was tied down, which was the moment realisation hit him; whatever happened after he woke up last night, definitely had not been a dream!  
All drowsiness vanished from his body, and he pulled on the restraints around his hands and ankles.

He opened his eyes, but there were only slivers of light coming through whatever blindfold was over them.

Did the settlers kidnap him? No way! This couldn't be happening. He had to get away, he had to-

The sound of a door opening stilled his movements, and he waited with rising panic for what was going to happen.  
The bag over his head was pulled off roughly and revealed a small room with a single light bulb overhead. The sudden flash blinded him and he blinked to adjust his eyes quickly.

The addition of his hangover paired with what - or rather who - he saw in front of him made him want to puke, but he held back the bile already rising in his throat.

"Are we finally awake, princess?" The Gunner grinned dirtily. The man was around 5'9", wearing the usual army fatigues. His hairstyle was an undercut, and he wondered why it seemed a little off to him. The made looked sloppy, so it almost appeared like he was more of a raider than from the mercenary group. Despite being giant assholes, they usually were required to have some sort of pulled-together appearance.  
MacCready swallowed hard, and answered after pushing down his fear: "Yes, but I am still a little tired. Could you come back later? And bring a pillow with you- the chair is getting a little uncomfortable."  
The Gunner just snorted. "We'll see how many jokes are going to be left in you once we're done with you... unless you do as we say, of course, MacCready."

So they knew who he was. No wonder. But what could they want from him?

"And what do yo-," he started, but a strong slap to his face quieted him. The spot stung horribly.  
"Talk only when being asked a question, or when offered input. If anyone really is going to care about your opinion." The smile the man had worn was gone, and he stood before the sniper with his arms crossed.

MacCready noticed a table a couple feet away, now that the Gunner was leaning against it. On it was a selection of devices, probably to torture him to get him to talk.

"So, we can do this either the easy, or the hard way. Your decision alone," he offered nonchalantly.

"It's your decision to react to m-" The man walked over again, this time punching his cheek full-force, the impact turning his head away. He tasted something metallic on his tongue. He probably had bitten it.  
He turned to face his captor again, who grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. His duster and rifle were gone, as well as his hat.

He leaned down close to his face, and MacCready resisted the strong desire to lean back. Instead he just glared.  
"You may not believe it, but I am a very creative man. The more you break my rules, the more horrible your punishment is going to be. So whenever you think it can't get worse? You're lying to yourself."  
He had collected enough saliva and blood up to this point, and spit at the Gunner. The man backed away, obviously disgusted with this action, and wiped the area around his mouth. MacCready had aimed pretty well, even without his gun.

He watched as the man in front of him recovered quickly.  
"Piece of shit. I'll show you not to mess with me," he grunted, fury painted on his face.  
He took a swing, and the merc only felt a short instance of pain blooming at his temple, before he once again passed out.

* * *

This time he was tied down differently. His hands were no longer tied behind his back, but around the armrests, and his ankles each around the front legs of the chair.

He felt parched, and hungry, but he just forced these natural needs away. There was no time to worry about this. His captors surely weren't going to give him anything to eat or drink unless he talked, and he wasn't going to.  
He wasn't going to give these assholes anything, but a hard time.  
Buy some time so someone would rescue him, maybe?

Who would come and rescue him, really? Tyler was away, so even if he considered he was worth the trouble, he didn't know he had been kidnapped.

The door in front of him opened, and the same guy from last time entered. He was carrying a tray that he placed on the table.

"I'll try to make this easier for you, if you behave, y'know. I understand how hard it must be to betray your friends," he started, and MacCready had already heard enough of this bullshit. He surely did not care how he felt about this whole situation. "Maybe I should introduce myself first. You can call me Coyote."

He remained silent, eyes trained on the man's face.

"So, you're Robert Joseph MacCready, former gunner. Just a simple yes or no question."  
He was testing the waters, to see how cooperative he was. He knew who he was already.  
He kept silent.

Coyote sighed and shook his head in disappointment.  
"I suppose I have to teach you a few more lessons until you learn. But do not worry," he grabbed something from the table, a simple knife, "I always get what I want, even from dogs like you."

He walked closer, the knife's blade reflecting the light of the bulb menacingly.

Coyote rested the tip against his forearm, before pressing into the flesh and muscle, drawing a drop of blood.  
"Are you Robert Joseph MacCready? Yes or no?"  
MacCready clenched his fists, and forced his gaze away from his arm. He kept silent.  
Coyote slid the blade across his arm, forcing a quiet gasp from the ex-Gunner. "How impolite! I introduced myself, but you fail to do the same! You're worse trained than an actual mongrel!"

He set the tip of the blade next to the other spot he had pierced, this time a little deeper.  
"What's your name?"  
"Screw you!" he yelled, head still turned away.  
"Wrong, unfortunately.. for you." He cut his skin and flesh slower, letting him feel every movement of the intrusion. It felt odd, and of course painful. He tried to pull his arm away out of reflex, but with the rope around his wrist he knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. The blade felt cool compared to the temperature of his own body.  
But he concentrated on exactly that to keep his mind distracted from the stinging that made him want to wince.

Coyote repeated the motion a couple more times before giving up, as MacCready refused to react, nor say anything.  
He set the blade aside after wiping the blood off on the sniper's pants.  
"Diane!" he yelled, banging on the door a couple times, when a woman entered the room. The banging had been way too loud in MacCready's ears. Why couldn't it be quiet? He wanted to be left alone, but that luxury laid in the recent past.

His torturer mumbled something to her, and she grabbed a few things on the table; a lighter, a candle, and the knife.

MacCready watched as she silently lit up the candle, and held the blade over the small flame.

Now he wished there was some sort of sound. A cough, the shuffling of clothes or shoes. Anything that would distract him from the sight before him - but no one was moving, or saying anything.

Coyote grabbed the handle of the cutting tool and walked back over to him. MacCready braced himself for what was about to happen. He bit his lower lip, and grabbed the end of the armrests tightly.  
"Oh, is someone already getting scared? Don't worry, I am doing this for your own good. We wouldn't want you to bleed out or suffer an infection," the Gunner claimed innocently.  
The scorching blade was pressed to the least bleeding wound, and the merc twitched in his seat at the pain. It started alright, he had suffered worse, but the piece of metal was not being lifted off again. The irritating feeling of being burned got worse, despite the heat escaping from the device gradually. It continually spread around the area, and his body tried to get him to pull his arm away, but he kept it in place.

_Think about something else! Think about.. about.._

Funny how one could get lost in thoughts so easily when not needing to, but when one did, the brain failed miserably.

He felt the blade being lifted off of his skin, and he looked to see if there was skin coming off with it. But no, the spot just looked very read, and a little swollen.  
The knife was being handed back to Diane, who repeated the routine. It was handed back to Coyote.

"Maybe you are just shy," the Gunner spoke, setting the heated blade back onto another cut. MacCready groaned and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, but he refused to scream. He was shivering, despite the high temperature emanating from the torturing tool. His heart beat faster, and he feared he would become light-headed. Good thing he was sitting down.  
"So we can skip the introduction you failed like a moron, and move on to more important things: You can tell me all about the Castle and other settlements! Isn't that nice? Just an interview between you and me."

 _Get the knife off of me already! I.. I can't tell them. I am not going to break! Someone is going to come for me, and I will enjoy killing you,_ Coyote!

Diane was handed the knife again. There were two more cuts to be cauterised.  
MacCready dropped his head to the side. Whatever. His whole arm was burning and pulsing.  
The shivering got stronger at the fourth cut's cauterisation, even though he barely felt it the pain anymore from the blade directly; only the pulsing remained, and the rest felt oddly but pleasantly numb.

"Hey, don't pass out on me now!" Coyote slapped his face a couple times, rousing him from the half-sleep he apparently had been in.  
He looked down at his arm, seeing that it was full of blood and blisters.

The Gunner shoved a glass of water in his face, urging him to drink from it. But he just slowly turned his head away. He wanted to sleep, and forget where he was, not drink whatever piss was in the glass.

"Aw, not luxurious enough now that you've become a celebrity? Well, too bad. It's the only stuff you're gonna get," Coyote growled, grabbing a fistful of the tied-down man's hair, and pulling his head back harshly. MacCready watched as he loomed over him.   
"Or maybe it's too cold? I can heat it up for you, and then let it burn your throat to crisp!"

Mac had to be careful now. Making the slightest wrong response could get him tortured further by Coyote actually going through with his idea, or get him piss-water.  
He opened his mouth a little more, accepting the drink.  
The water was not tasty, or healthy, by any means, but the alcohol that had been in his system had caused more fluids to get out of his body; the moment the fluid ran down his dry throat he accepted it greedily. Coyote let him have about half the glass before pulling the cup away. The fingers gripping his hair disappeared.

"So, how many people are there at the Castle?" He placed the glass down and ordered with the wave of his hand for Diane to leave. They were alone again.  
MacCready couldn't be less motivated right now to talk. He felt exhausted, and was in pain thanks to his arm. Let alone that he wasn't going to betray anyone anytime soon.

"Still not talking, huh? I've broken tougher women and men. You won't be the exception." With that he grabbed a camera off the table and made a photo of him, the flash blinding him for a moment. Then he took the tray and left the room again, leaving the sniper with his own thoughts.

He didn't know how long he had sat there, and that fact bothered him. Was it day or night? How much time had passed since he had been brought here?  
Where was he anyway? How could anyone possibly find him? He could be anywhere in nowhere. His gun was gone, and so was his duster, with the only object that could possibly lighten his mood at the moment; the little wooden soldier he always carried around.

Sleep didn't come easy. He was restless, anxious and cold. The torturing continued for another two times he slept in the same position, his body craving water and food more and more. No matter what they decided to give him, it was never nearly enough.  
His other arm had gotten the same treatment as the first, until a bat was utilised to hit his legs.

The longer this went on, the less he was able to hold back cries of pain. The more pain he was in after another session, the harder it was to go to sleep, even though exhaustion pulled at his body.

When he finally had slept a little while - he would estimate three hours - he wished to have stayed awake upon waking up.

His hands had been tied together, and the rope had been attached to a hook hanging from the ceiling, leaving him to hang just low enough so his toes brushed the dusty ground. He had been positioned in a way to leave him unknown of the going-on's behind him, where the door was.  
Was someone in the room? Was he alone?

"H-hello?" he stammered, hating how he was stuttering. But he feared the consequences of speaking up.

And he really just wanted to take a leak. That with as little as he drunk his bladder still managed to scrap enough piss was a miracle to him; an unwanted one.

Two knocks on the metal door. His breathing stopped as he waited to hear the familiar boots against the cement. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then the door creaked open, and the person he wanted to see the least entered. He heard the chuckle, the disgustingly cheery voice: "Ah, you're finally awake! Say, how do you like your new.. accommodations? You said the chair had been too uncomfortable before, so I thought you might want to have a change of scenery."

_This blank wall looks better than your face, certainly._

MacCready bit his tongue to not let the comment out on accident.

"I need to piss," he whispered instead. It was getting pretty painful, slowly but steadily.

"Sounds like a you-problem. Easily solved though: just piss," Coyote advised.  
MacCready didn't want to believe what he had just heard. Did that guy really think he would piss himself in front of everyone?

"Now, I'd rather inquire about our business topics. How many weapons are there in Sanctuary Hills? How many people, and watch towers? I would never pry, but... today I _really_ recommend you to tell me. For your own sake."  
MacCready gripped the metal chain he was hanging from tighter, bracing himself for torture that was sure to come.  
"Ah, scared? You don't have to be. You just have to tell us what we want to know."

Sounds of an object being moved sounded from behind him, then footsteps coming closer, and closer. He waited, the anticipation almost worse than the pain itself now that he didn't know what was going on.  
His shirt was being grabbed from behind, before the fabric was cut off, leaving him bare-chested in the cold room. He shivered at the sensation of a blade coming awfully close to the blisters on his arms as it cut the cloth over there as well. He prayed to whatever god or all-knowing entity there was that they would at least leave him his pants.

The entity heard his wish.

Coyote put the knife back down, taking something else from the table.

"Tell us about the layout of the Castle," he demanded. MacCready didn't understand how they couldn't see that he was **not** going to answer. He wasn't going to betray them. He had already done too much damage with the fight at the Interchange. He had displeased Tyler enough to force him to leave. He hadn't acted early enough when his friend had just kept losing weight in front of him.

Did he even deserve to call him a "friend"?

The angry and scared looks of the settlers came to his mind's eye, and he felt that whatever torture was awaiting him was deserved. He had so much innocent blood on his hands, and Tyler - with his good heart - had shown him that.

"Still not talking? I start to believe you're less brave, and rather dumb." He chuckled, and whoever else was in the room with Coyote did as well, seeing what was about to come.

"Can you tell me the number I'm thinking of?" The man placed his warm hand on MacCready's shoulder, causing the other to flinch away from the touch. Which was impossible considering his recent "accommodations".  
"A number from 0 to 100. Do not worry, it is not related to any of our official business."

The sniper was wary of that assumption. But whatever.  
He huffed, looking ahead with the blankest gaze he could manage and answered: "Zero."

"50 it is." The hand on his shoulder vanished.

He yelped in pain, back arching at the whip cracking on his back just a second later.  
"Oh, and do count for me, please! I am not good at math. A hint: every whip not counted, didn't happen."

MacCready didn't want to be whipped to death, but the little pride he still had left prevented him from doing even a task that would lessen the pain inflicted on him.

After a few more whips, where he failed to count out loud, they got stronger.

His legs grew weaker, and he had to grip the metal chain harder with his sweaty palms.

Every hit seemed to make him shiver more, and his bladder was protesting with the onslaught of searing agony.  
He was **not** going to piss himself in front of these assholes!  
Which meant... he had to start counting.

He was going to count on from the next, but his own scream stopped him. That piece of shit had whipped his ass!

"ONE!"

"Ah, there we go!"

The next hit went to the same spot, and his voice cracked at the burn following the whip: "T-TWO!"

"ThREE!"

"foUR!"

It went on forever now that the pain got too much for him to handle. He should have counted from the beginning!  
But he deserved this. He deserved it all!

Coyote struck the whip quickly against the back of his thighs, and that's when he felt it; the warmth seeping though his pants. His cheeks heated up in shame, so that the relief the action usually brought wasn't even present anymore.

The sound of the whip striking his body, that he had heard before and given him some constant in the otherwise silent room, stopped. And he feared knowing why.  
"Look, Diane, he pissed himself!" The man laughed. "He fucking pissed himself!"

"Dirtied our floors, too!" the woman spoke up for the first time while he had been here. "Could I?"

He didn't know what was going on behind him. He just enjoyed the few seconds of rest. His back must have been a bleeding mess by this point, but it was hard to feel any blood running down his skin when it had been abused to the point of numbness.  
The wall before him had gotten blurry. Was he going to pass out? Cry? Would be nice to have the former happening to him. He didn't feel like bawling his eyes out as well.

Another whip to the back of his thighs. Diane huffed in pride: "You have to hit it around there. Pretty sensitive, that spot."  
MacCready found it got harder to breathe. His whole body was shaking, and sweating. He felt like he had some sort of fever starting. Great, was he getting sick atop of tortured? Just his luck.

Luck. His thoughts drifted off to Tyler. This guy was very lucky. From jumping down crazy heights, as well as managing to be the only survivor of a Vault.  
He hadn't even told him he loved him yet. He probably still couldn't. He lacked the figurative balls.  
He was alone here, no Tyler to save him.

Coyote asked for Diane to step away, and MacCready wondered if their sessions as finally over.  
He heard the familiar click of a button, and saw the flash reflect off the wall a little.

"I wonder.. you think these look good enough yet? I think we should make a third photo. Make these samaritans think real hard about our offer."

Diane placed the whip, or at least something back onto the table. "I dunno. You're the one in charge here."

"I am totally for making this asshole talk, but.. let's talk outside," he demanded, and with that he was left alone. The door opened and closed, and MacCready let out a shaky breath.

His whole back was burning, and his right asscheek didn't feel much better. His arms were starting to hurt as well as his wrists thanks to his position. He tried to stand a little taller on his toes, but his legs shook too much, and he ultimately failed to ease any pain.  
Everything just.. hurt, and he was freezing.  
Sleep would be the answer, but as someone else entered the room yet again, he forced his eyes open. He didn't want to be asleep to give them the opportunity to give him further "accommodations".

Whoever was standing behind him didn't say anything, didn't make a sound and swayed him into a false sense of security.  
He had to stay awake.  
Sleep was not an option with them around...

But he was getting tired. He was exhausted from all the torture the past... how long has it been? How long had he been missing?  
No one was going to come. He had to be realistic.

Tears pricked his eyes, and he bit his lip hard to hold them back.

Who was going to take care of Duncan when he was gone? But he couldn't see himself fleeing anytime soon.

The tears spilled over, but he was too fatigued to sob. Even blinking seemed like a godly-task.

Minutes must have passed - or was it an hour? -, when he finally felt his body relaxing the best it could so he could get some rest. Part of his brain screamed at him to stay awake, though his body demanded a nap. It was irrational to sleep, but he started to welcome the bliss of unconsciousness.  
He surely would have fallen asleep, if it hadn't been for the person in the room.

The movements behind him didn't scare him awake. Instead it was the feeling of something poking him. Something _hot_ poking him.

He groaned weakly, a groan that got louder the longer the object was pressed into the skin of his back. He arched his back, trying to get it away. Thankfully it was being removed after he had managed to wake himself up again fully.

Then it was silent again. Sweet silence.  
But the presence of another person in the room remained.

_They could use Dogmeat... he could sniff his way over here. Here.. where is here?_

The merc let his head drop slightly, leaning it against his shoulder out of instinct.  
He had been half asleep when the burning returned on his back, and he gasped.

"Friggin'... let me sleep already!" he yelled, and kicked out at whoever was behind him. He missed, only feeling how the impulse caused him to swing from the hook, causing further friction around his wrists.

He was getting angry. Were they trying to keep him up?

_Fuck, that's exactly what they are doing!_

He had heard of torturing methods like this before. The captured would be forced to stay awake, then someday be allowed to rest.. so they would talk.  
He obviously couldn't let that happen.

He was not going to give them anything except for a hard time.

Being forced awake every time he even rested his eyes made possible multiple days turn into one eternal one.  
Nothing was there to entertain himself with. The only thing he could do was think. Think about the situation he was in, about Duncan, and Tyler. Think about how hopeless he was, and that he was alone.

He would need to get out of here on his own. But with his body slowly giving up on him he couldn't see that happen anytime soon.

Another cigarette burn. He barely flinched.

He turned his head to whoever was behind him the best he could. He couldn't see them, but that didn't matter.  
"Could I have one as well? You're making me kind of jealous with your chain-smoking."  
He was met with silence. Then he heard a flip lighter, and soon he saw a hand, holding a fag to his lips.

He set his lips around the butt of it, and took a drag. The combination of not having had a smoke in a while, paired with his dry throat made him cough at first, but he recovered quickly for the sake of inhaling more of the nicotine.

"Tina!" a yell could be heard from outside the room, and soon after that a loud growl and the splintering of wood. It sounded like...  
His breathing quickened. No way a deathclaw had found its way here. He hoped that wherever he was, that giant lizard couldn't reach him.

Tina and the cigarette disappeared out the door, and MacCready began to struggle against the restraints around his arms. This was the perfect opportunity to flee.  
He placed his hands around the metal chain, and pulled himself up. But no way. His hands were too clammy and he lost grip on it.

The door was pushed open, and two people entered. At least it sounded like two people.

He could have cried when he heard the familiar voice call out his name: "Creads!"  
And then the man stood in front of him.  
"Tyler," he whispered. Was he hallucinating this after all? He couldn't believe this to be true.  
The man walked away again, and the sniper almost cried in fear for him to come back, but the hook over him lowered, so he was able to finally stand on his legs again. He was shaking.

"Don't worry, we're gonna get you out of here," the man reassured him. Oh, please!  
Tyler walked over and cut the ropes around his wrists.  
More loud noises sounded overhead of them, screams and the crumbling of fragile walls.  
The General picked him up, holding him close to his chest, and MacCready was honestly too tired to protest about being held bridal style. He was too exhausted.

He was being carried away, out of this horrible place. He let his eyes close. He could finally sleep in peace.

"..reads.. MacCr...," he heard someone call out to him, but he just ignored it. He couldn't be awake for a second longer. He just enjoyed the warmth of Tyler holding him and drifted off.

* * *

"Can you believe it, Diamond City? The Hero of the Commonwealth had found their missing friend at a Gunner camp recently. But not only that! He ran in there with not his army, not alone, but with a _Deathclaw_! The General sure has some surprises up his sleeves. Together with Piper Wright, and his new oversized pet, he destroyed the whole place, getting the man, that had been missing for two weeks, home. Clap it up, guys! We sure hope to find out more about this crazy story from our favourite reporter soon."

* * *

MacCready opened his eyes. He was in a room with only a lightbulb illuminating the space again. But this room was much more familiar. He was safe in Tyler's quarters at the Castle again.

No one except him was currently in here, it seemed.  
He looked down at himself, noticing the bandages around his arms and chest. And a needle connected to an IV bag in his wrist. He slowly got up by setting his bare feet on the ground first. He felt the coldness of it, so he looked around for his clothes and shoes. A new shirt and his old duster, neatly folded, laid on the mattress on the end of the bed, his hat on the nightstand next to him, and his shoes were in front of him on the floor.  
It all looked to have some sort of order, a sense of belonging there. So why did he feel so out of place himself?

The sniper got up and stopped the drip of the IV, and pulled the needle out of his arm carefully - he hated needles.  
His shoes were on quick, but getting the shirt and coat on was a little more difficult. Every exaggerated move hurt his muscles, and since he wanted to prevent opening any wounds he simply left them off, and walked outside the room without them.

Even lower temperatures met him there, but at least the sun was shining through the windows in the hallways. He stumbled along the walls, looking around for any sign of the General, but it appeared to be another busy day; not even the settlers could be found inside.  
Was Tyler even here? Or had he disappeared again?  
That thought send an empty feeling through his chest, and he frowned. He didn't want to be alone again.

"Oh, good morning, Mister MacCready!"  
He looked up when hearing someone call out his name. A woman in the infirmary. And she had called him... "Mister". Let alone she was smiling at him.  
"Good morning. Is Ty- the General around?" he asked, standing straighter despite the protests of his back.  
She waved him over: "He should be in a meeting at the moment, but don't worry! I'll tell him you woke up. But let's first do a checkup."

She invitingly patted one of the mattresses of the two beds standing in the little space next to the stand, and grabbed a little bag stuffed with whatever doctors used when examining a patient.  
He sat down. She gently took his arm and put a strap around the upper part, and pressed on some sort of handbulb until his arm hurt. He pretended that it didn't bother him, and soon the pressure around his limb vanished.  
"Hm.. blood pressure is much better. Now breathe in deeply and hold it for just a moment, please, then breathe out slowly." She put the ends of the stethoscope in her ears and set the small disc-shaped thing on his chest over his heart, then a little lower, higher. "Lean forward a little." He did, letting her gently place the stethoscope on his back.  
After a few more seconds she placed the stethoscope back in the bag and took a few notes. It was nice to see that most all settlements had proper doctors and equipment, and even some nurses who are being trained to become doctors in the unfortunate event of death, which was all too common in the 'Wealth.

"You are doing much better, but you should still rest for a couple more days. Don't forget to drink and eat, either! When the General brought you in here you were thin as a stick," she advised.  
MacCready couldn't believe when he actually chuckled. It was funny to him. "I am just rather thin, actually."

"HEY! Don't put that stuff there. We need these bricks over there, at the northern wall!" MacCready's heart skipped a beat. Tyler's voice.  
He got off the bed a little too quickly, and the doctor held him by his shoulders to prevent him from simply kissing the cement. His vision returned from the dark spots that had formed, and he rubbed his eyes. The doctor might have been right: bed rest.

"You appear pretty excited to see him," she helped him walk out into the inner courtyard. "I can't blame you. He rescued you from those Gunners after all."  
The sniper smiled upon seeing him.  
"But do go inside soon, Mister MacCready. It is cold outside, and I do not want you to get sick!"  
"Of course, doc. Thank you." The doctor returned to the infirmary after bringing him halfway across the field, when Tyler finally saw him.

Already Mac could see he had changed. He was wearing some sort of uniform - he guessed the former General's -, with the additional hat and gloves. Instead of his bat, a revolutionary sword hung lazily off his belt. He also looked taller, but that wasn't the case; it was the mere presence he emitted. More dominant and in control. Confident.

He only noticed he had been standing in place, busy with staring at his friend, when Tyler stood in front of him. He was smiling softly up at him.  
His own smile faded a little.  
"Y-your eye," he mumbled, gingerly letting his finger trace one of the three scars on the left side of his face. The left eye was hidden behind a leather eyepatch.  
"Ah, yes. The eye patch," Tyler took MacCready's hand in his. "I hope you don't mind my new pirate getup. Thought it suited me."  
"A.. pirate? I thought you were the General of the Minutemen, not the Captain of the USS Constitution."  
Tyler laughed, and for once, the older man felt like he actually got his joke.  
"Doesn't matter in the end. C'mon, let's get you inside, you must be freezing."  
And Tyler was right. He was freezing, but seeing his friend had warmed his heart enough to drive the cold in his bones away.

They turned around already, and Tyler had swung his coat over the sniper's shoulders, when a rough voice called out from behind them:

"Tyler? Is that really you?"


	9. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What luck Tyler has!  
> Who would've thought that he would meet them again?
> 
> MacCready doesn't appear to be enjoying the reunion all that much, and neither is Tyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The later part in this chapter was nice to write. I don't tell my gf that I love her often enough due to issues connected with past-trauma. Nothing you guys want to know probably.
> 
> But the reason I am writing this: Tell your significant others that you love them. That they are appreciated. The words "I love you" can't be said often enough if you mean them.

MacCready had been so happy to see Tyler again after these weeks of torture. His body was aching all over - especially his legs, but he ignored the bruises and swelling in favour of getting out of the dark room -, and he just wanted to sit down with his friend and talk.  
They had so much to talk about.  
Like: What had he been up to?  
Where did these scars come from?  
Why the sudden change in attitude and appearance?  
And he wanted to talk about his own experiences as well, tell him what he knew about the reasonings of the kidnappings. And that they needed to be careful in case the Gunners would come back and do something horrible, or maybe kidnap someone else.

But his plans were interrupted by a ghoul who had called out to Tyler.

He turned around, hands coming up to hug the coat tighter around himself, as the cold was slowly getting to him. He wouldn't be surprised if it was going to snow this year. And he wanted to go inside for Tyler's sake as well, now that he was left in only a white linen shirt.  
There were two ghouls standing behind them, a man and a woman.  
The woman was around the same height as Tyler, and despite her skin having been mostly burned off due to extreme radiation, she still had blonde long hair, worn in a ponytail. She appeared rather familiar, especially when it came to her piercing amber eyes. She wore simple road leathers and leather armour around her arms and legs.  
The boy seemed younger, maybe around 18 to 20; of course he was older, but he must have been around that age when he turned to a ghoul. He had shorter, but also less, dark brown hair. His left eye was completely black, while the other was blue with a bloodshot hue. He was tall, compared to the woman, around a head and a half, and he was more on the muscular side. He wore a denim vest with a black sweater underneath. Tight jeans hugged his legs, and he wore the same shoes as Tyler did. MacCready somehow felt a disliking towards the stranger - the way he looked at Tyler didn't sit right with him.  
The familiarity that the female ghoul sparked in MacCready was explained when the man next to him asked quietly, almost disbelieving:

"Mama? Sam?"

She nodded, and Tyler ran over, hugging her tightly.  
The sniper wasn't sure he understood what was happening, despite it seeming rather obvious; a family reunion after 200 years. It was just so unreal to him, so he couldn't even imagine what it was like for the other. She had survived the bomb somehow.  
The ghoul let go of her son, and put her hands on his shoulders, looking him up and down.  
"My goodness, how you've grown! How did you.. I don't understand how you're still alive." She wiped tears from her eyes. Tears of happiness. One didn't see that out here often enough from causes like this. But MacCready felt left out from this heartbreaking scene, which was fine - he wasn't part of his family. There was no reason for him to feel so.. excluded.

"I will explain it to you, but let's first go inside," he requested, and waved MacCready over to help him back into his quarters. He walked over, anxiety nibbling on his joints and threatening to make him stumble under the gaze of the two strangers; particularly that of the man.

Once reaching the room Tyler helped him sit down on the bed and kneeled down to take off his shoes for him, but the sniper quickly swatted his hands away, a blush growing on his cheeks. He didn't need to be treated like that in front of the two.  
Tyler luckily didn't make a scene, and got back up, taking the coat back from him.  
MacCready sat fully on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"Would you like to have something to drink?" the General offered, throwing his new coat around the back of a chair standing around the wide table in the middle of the space.  
"Water would be nice," his mother answered, taking a seat so she was able to see MacCready as well. Sam took a seat next to the chair that Tyler was going to occupy.  
"You know what I need, Stehli," the man chuckled at whatever inside joke this was. Mac tensed, but didn't let his distaste for the guy show.   
Tyler smiled softly and nodded, appearing to know what he meant.  
He felt like he shouldn't be here right now. This was some sort of social gathering where he had come to uninvited, and now everyone - or maybe just him - was awkward.

"Robert?" He looked up from his lap when his name was called.  
"I.. I'm good." He shook his head to emphasise, but Tyler sighed: "I'm sure the doctor told you to keep hydrated. Unless you wanna stay connected to that IV longer."  
He pointed at it. Regardless of his worry, he sounded rather nonchalant about it.

So he was handed a glass of clean water, just like his mother. Sam was handed a bottle of beer. One of the few that stood in the cabinet; the stronger stuff was more aesthetically pleasing to be displayed in the shelf, the merc supposed

"Did we come at an unsuitable time? It seems the two of you are rather roughened up," the woman asked, folding her hands on top of the table.  
"No, no. It's fine," Tyler shrugged, "I am pretty glad you're here. Still alive and all. I thought that you were..dead."  
Tyler didn't take a seat next to Sam, but kept standing while leaning on the back of the chair. At the last words he gripped the chair tighter with his gloved hands.  
"Well, we partly are," Sam replied, taking a sip from his beer. Tyler didn't seem amused.  
"Anyways, let's just get through the whole 'Oh, where have you been?'s and 'How are you?'s. I still got a whole fort to fix," the General said, and MacCready almost choked at how cold his friend had just sounded. He really had missed two weeks, hadn't he?

That response wasn't lost on the other two either, who looked at each other for a moment before directing their attention back to the other.  
It was silent for some time, when Tyler took the ropes and started the conversation: "You probably wonder how I am still alive, let alone still so good-lookin'." Sam chuckled. He finally sat down as well.  
"Mom, when I was down in that Vault.. it wasn't even remotely like what we've been told. They put us on ice to see how we would survive in this wasteland after a certain amount of time had passed. I woke up a while ago, as the only one alive down there. Malfunction in the cryo pods."  
"They gave you a new hairstyle for free down there as well?" the other man asked in a playful manner.  
"No, something else happened. But that's not important," Tyler brushed the question off and continued: "Anyways. In short, I fought against some bad guys, became the General of the Commonwealth, made some friends and got off my meds cold-turkey. Which brings me to now."

Tyler's mother's expression lightened up at the last part, and she smiled so wide that the sniper was concerned her lips would tear.  
"Oh, Tyler! That is wonderful news! But you did it safely, didn't you?"  
MacCready huffed, and three heads turned towards him. He raised a brow. "What? I was there when he decided to take off and quit taking Med-X."  
After adding that little detail to the story of the "Hero of the Commonwealth", he felt a little more included in the conversation, thus getting up and sitting down on one of the chairs, across from Tyler.  
His mother didn't look happy.

"Tyler Leopold Stehli! You were _alone_ in the Commonwealth while giving up your medication?!" she crossed her arms. "That is irresponsible! You could have gotten hurt!"  
Tyler sighed and leaned back, taking off one of his gloves and rubbing his hand over his face.  
"Aside from the fact that I did get hurt, it all turned out well. I feel just fine!"  
"You should have stayed somewhere safe, Tyler! I don't need to tell you how dangerous the Commonwealth is nowada-"  
"Then don't," Tyler grunted, his index finger tapping on the table, "please, let us just quickly catch up and not dwell on mistakes in the past."

She looked hurt by the way Tyler was speaking to her, and MacCready felt inclined to tell him, but he would wait until they were alone.  
"Alright then," she answered instead, "When I woke up sometime after the bombs dropped, I tried to get into the Vault as well, but the platform wouldn't work. I stayed for a while, in hope that the Vault would open up," she looked into Tyler's eyes, " but when I saw that that wasn't happening anytime soon I knew I had to go." She looked down at her hands, guilt reflecting in her eyes. "I left the Commonwealth, and went to the Capital Wasteland. I did.. mercenary work. And as fate would have it, on my many travels through our good ol' USA, I stumbled over Samuel. You remember he had visited family there when the world ended, right?"

Tyler looked at Samuel with an expression Mac couldn't pinpoint etched into his face.  
When he didn't answer, Sam added: "I spent my 200 years the same. Violent work, quick work.. things I didn't know I was able to do before, and then of course my appearance. People were quick to attack you when you so much as sighed near them."

Ah, yes. The prejudices against ghouls. The hate for them was even stronger in the Capital Wasteland. Probably because they looked even more dead than here; muscles from missing pieces of rotting skin showed through, which was a turn-off alone for most.

"Why did you two come back here? Surely after hundreds of years spent in whatever Wasteland you were in, you wouldn't want to just up and leave," Tyler argued, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
The woman got up, and walked over, taking one of her son's hands to hold it. "Because we heard that the Vault had opened, honey."  
Tyler didn't seem impressed. He didn't look happy at all actually. MacCready didn't understand why. His mother was still alive! How could that possibly be bad?

Mac watched his silent friend. He just stared up into his mother's eyes, appearing so lost as never before. Even while on Med-X he had been grounded, but now things, he had believed were true, turned out to be wrong.

"I.. excuse me, please. I need some air," Tyler got up and grabbed his coat and glove before walking out the door. MacCready got up to follow him, but he stopped himself. He needed some time to digest all the news. He would want to be left alone as well.  
Sam turned to the other ghoul: "This could have gone better."  
"Much better, Samuel..." she hid her face behind her hands.

The sniper needed a smoke badly with all the miserable energy around him. He grabbed the packet of cigarettes from the nightstand and lit himself one, before going back to the table.  
"Want one?" he offered the two, who accepted.

"I may not know Tyler as long as you do, but I can tell you he will come around. He just needs some time. He has gone through some things just before you arrived."  
Sam commented: "You seem to have had some stuff happenin' to you as well - the bandages and all. What happened?"  
"I got kidnapped. Some Gunners wanted me to spill, probably to take over the Castle, but I refused. Then Tyler rescued me, like the hero that he is."  
"Shit."  
"Yep."

"Who are you anyways?" Sam asked, raising a.. well it would have been a brow. If there still was enough hairs left.  
"I am," he paused. What exactly was he to Tyler? A friend? A hired gun? He had paid him, but their relationship definitely wasn't just reduced to business. "I am his friend."  
"Ah, a friend. You struck me more like a mercenary. I am Tyler's best friend, Samuel. But you can call me Sam." His tone was almost mocking, and Mac bit his tongue to not glare at him.

Tyler's mom held her hand out to him. "I am Ronja by the way. Wouldn't want you to also start calling me 'Tyler's mommy' like Samuel used to." She smiled at him, and he smiled back, shaking her hand. "MacCready."

They talked for a little while about the Capital Wasteland, and the former citizen got updated on how it had changed ever since the success of Project Purity. But when Tyler didn't come back, he couldn't help but worry.  
"I'll go check on Tyler. See that he's okay." He grabbed his duster and exited the room to go look for his friend. The ghouls knew not to come with him, and he was glad to not have to ask them to stay.

The sniper walked to the small infirmary. The doctor was still there.  
"Hey, have you seen the General? He might have walked past here around 20 minutes ago."  
She didn't stop tending to the splinter stuck in the young girl's thumb when answering: "He walked past here, towards the armoury."  
"Thank you," with that he walked off.

Fortunately he found him there, all calm and collected - on the exterior at least.  
He knew Tyler long enough to see that he was bothered by something. The way he stood, with his shoulders back and chest out, ready to fight a war in his own mind.  
"Hey, you alright?"  
"No."

He was counting the cannonballs, as well as the packs of fusion cells and other bullets, seemingly keeping a list of their stock.  
MacCready walked over, standing next to Tyler. He would have set his hand on his shoulder, patted him on the back in a weak attempt to comfort him with whatever was ailing him, but physical contact would probably make him feel more trapped than he already did.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Ty," he crossed his arms, and kept his gaze locked on the shelf before them. "And don't think about evading my question. I can see something is wrong. People's usual reaction to seeing old friends and family is not running off to go and work."  
It was silent for a few more seconds, in which the clipboard he had been holding was set down along with the pen.  
Then a quiet inhale of cool air.  
"I thought they were gone." He kept silent, giving Tyler enough time to think of what he wanted to say. "I had accepted my fate after talking with you about it weeks ago."  
He cleared his throat.  
"Now both my mother and Sam are here, alive and.. well in some way. And I feel very uncomfortable."

"Why though?"  
"Because they changed."  
Yeah, for Tyler not much time had passed since the bombs dropped, while the others had to live through 210 years in the unforgiving lands of former proud America. They had been forced to change, to adapt. MacCready couldn't comprehend how odd it must seem to his friend to see his family like this.  
They must seem like-  
"Strangers. They are like strangers to me. And it somehow... I don't feel much for them. It's like seeing an old acquaintance after a long time, with whom you don't have anything in common anymore; and so I'm just awkward."

It made kind of sense, MacCready thought. But it could have made sense for others. Tyler on the other hand was a person to care for people around him, whether he knew them or not. The compassion couldn't have possibly been feigned by the drugs alone.  
"Maybe you're just scared to let them close to you. You push them away in fear they might leave again. Or worse."  
He appeared to have hit the nail on the head. Tyler's hollow-confident stance crumbled, and he let his shoulders sag.  
"I barely have felt anything the past few weeks, Robert. Ever since I stopped taking the Med-X, I felt," he took off his hat, staring at it as if it had the words to offer which he was searching for, "odd."  
"Odd in what way?" he inquired. They were slowly getting somewhere.  
"Odd in means of... empty. Cold. I feel like a different person. I talk and move differently. You're smart enough, Robert. You surely noticed."  
He couldn't deny it.  
"Have I ever really been myself? Or was it all just the meds? Don't get me wrong, I am still angry sometimes; I took the drugs for a reason after all. But my outbursts are much less.. violent. I come to believe that my life had been nothing but a _sham_." Tyler stared blankly up at him. When he looked deep into his amber eyes, he noticed something different. Maybe not something completely detached, but rather calculating and analysing. 

"It is weird that now, after quitting this shi- stuff, you get less fits," the sniper mumbled more to himself. While Tyler had lost weight, he had taken less of them, and he wasn't as angry as he could have been in the few instances that could cause him to feel like that.

"But let's not focus on that now. We should go back. We'll discuss this later."  
They returned to the private quarters. They stood in front of the closed door for a moment. Tyler hesitated, before taking MacCready's hand in his, holding onto it firmly.

Sam and Ronja hadn't moved from their seats.  
"Is everything alright?" she stood up, and walked over. Her gaze fell on their intertwined fingers, but she quickly looked back up.  
"Yes,..mother. Everything is okay. I'd like to invite you to stay the night. I planned a celebration for the return of Robert this evening, and I might as well celebrate the return of you two for coming back to Boston."  
Now that was news to him: A party for his return? He felt sheepish. And nervous. Why would the settlers want to take part in this after the way they had treated him? After telling him what they thought of him.

"A night?" Sam spoke up and stood in front of Tyler, "Stehli, we want to become Minutemen! We're here to stay!"  
The tall ghoul wrapped his arms around Tyler, and lifted him off the floor, successfully separating their hands.  
Tyler could have looked more excited.

He was let down again and brushed off dust from his coat that only he saw.  
"Alright then. I would tell you that I am not comfortable with you getting yourselves in danger, but you have lived and experienced more than I ever could in this place. So welcome aboard."

* * *

The inner courtyard looked festively decorated; small campfires had been set up, as well as some old tires to serve as chairs around them. Some settlers were already cooking soup over them in big pots for everyone to counter the cold outside. Fairy lights were hung along the walls. The bar that was usually open for traders or anyone passing by was opened for all. Not that a Minuteman couldn't go and grab themselves something there over the day, but most went to the cafeteria, where one didn't need to somehow identify themselves as part of the settlement, thus getting water or Nuka-Cola for free. And lastly music. Finally not that damn violin playing in the background all day, but Diamond City Radio played from multiple radios placed near each fireplace. The makeshift design of everything felt homey in an odd way. Who needed tables and chairs like those in the Upper Stands, when you had people you trusted around you? There laid part of the problem.

MacCready wasn't so sure about the last part, and had taken to hide in Tyler's room.  
The words from the settlers were stuck in his head. They had made it blatantly obvious they did not trust him, and now they were supposed to be happy he was back again? Didn't sound right.

A knock on the door alarmed him that someone had probably had searched, and ultimately found him. He kept sitting on the bed when Tyler entered.  
"Hey, are you holding up alright?" He walked over.  
He didn't look up. "Yes, I'm fine."  
"Don't lie to me."  
Damn Tyler's compassion! He didn't want to talk about this, simple as that. But Tyler would poke for answers until he got them.

He felt the mattress shift beside him.  
"Tell me what happened when you got kidnapped."  
He had made a mistake, going outside while still intoxicated. He felt ashamed to tell him, but didn't his friend to deserve to know? Maybe if he told him the reason he had snuck outside, he would leave him be.  
"After you left I came here to tell Garvey," he started. But something in him stopped his brain from forming more words.

_He will know what the settlers think._

_He might make me leave, seeing how I am so bad for the climate here._

_I had done wrong involving Tyler in my personal problems, so why would telling him this make anything_ _better?_

"I.. I can't talk about that. N-not now. Please, Tyler." He let his head hang lower in defeat.  
He saw Tyler nodding in his peripheral vision.  
"Alright, but please tell me what happened while you were gone. What did they want from you? It's important this doesn't repeat itself."  
"They.. tortured me for information on the settlements. Guard posts, turret placement, just the general amount of people here or in Sanctuary Hills," he listed off the things he still had in his hazy memory. For some reason the memories were mostly blurry, or not complete. And he was partly thankful that he didn't have to see the scenes play out constantly in his mind's eye.  
"Did you tell them?"  
"No!" he looked at Tyler with shock. "I couldn't do that! Ever!"  
"Hey, calm down," the other took his hands in gloved ones, "even if you would have told them, it would be okay. You were scared and hurting. Their torture was awful, and not everyone would have been able to keep quiet, let alone their sanity."  
He doubted he had kept his marbles together. He was still picking them back up, or simply ignoring that they were all over the place by focusing his attention on different things. Tyler's problems, his family, the party and his nervousness to face the very people who hated him so much.

"I may not be smart, but I'm not ignorant either, Mac. I know that there is tension in my settlements, because of your former status. Ronnie told me what had happened the day you vanished."  
MacCready froze, and his heart stopped for a moment. He knew. Surely he would take the fitting measures to make sure the tension would go; meaning he had to go.  
"I don't know, nor understand, why you fear confronting the people who did you wrong. I got to know you as someone who doesn't take shit from anyone, especially when it's unfounded."  
He chuckled nervously: "You made me soft."  
Tyler remained serious: "I will not expect from you to confront them alone. I will be there, and I will make sure they understand what you had to endure just to keep quiet while the Gunners hurt you. I know that not all minds will change, but I am confident that some, maybe most, will."  
Fear spiked in the sniper and he pulled his hands away and stood up to get some distance between them. "Don't. Please, you don't have to do that."  
Tyler got up as well, but didn't get closer. "I do! You may not want to see it, but I see you as family. And I protect those I hold dear."

Mac kept silent, and a frown grew on his face. He couldn't possibly mean that after all the trouble he had caused him, and not repaying him in any way. He had to make it up to him.

Tyler stepped forward, so they were just a couple inches away. He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt, and gently pulled down. Lips pressed onto his, and he closed his eyes. The other licked over his lips, and he opened his mouth to let Tyler's tongue slide in. His hands held onto his shoulders, and held him there as if Tyler would disappear without his firm grip.

He remembered Hancock telling him how much of a dumbass he was, because he didn't see that Tyler had feelings for him. He had doubted his words until now.

Strong arms wrapped around his torso and pulled his body to lean against the other's. The wounds on his back stung a little from the touch, but he didn't care. Nothing could ruin this moment for him.  
Tyler pulled away after what felt like hours, and took a deep breath to collect himself.  
"Can we make this official already? I've been waiting too long, and I'm getting impatient," he stated casually, as if he wasn't asking MacCready to be his boyfriend just now.  
He smiled widely like he hadn't in a while. It felt like a heavy weight was lifted from his chest, and it made him giddy.  
"Yes."  
"I love you."

He put his hand over his own heart, feeling how quickly it was beating. He was getting dizzy from all the happiness he was feeling. No one could ruin this day. Not the settlers, not this weird Sam-guy, nor his aching body.

"I love you, too." It was a little difficult to say it, thinking back to Lucy, but he managed. He knew he wasn't lying when saying these words, and that's what counted most.

"Now, how about we do not let the others wait any longer? I still got my tale with the deathclaw to tell Piper. And I'm sure you're interested as well."  
Tyler stepped away towards the dresser. Before the sniper could ask what he was taking about, his boyfriend spoke up again: "And I have a little surprise for you. Nothing too special, but when I saw it, I couldn't help myself."  
He pulled out a bomber jacket. The leather looked a little faded, but that was barely not to be with 200 year old clothing articles.  
"I feel cold when only seeing you run around with your duster, and this should keep you warm with a thick shirt underneath."

It was handed to him neatly folded, and he looked down at it, the old known guilt rising within him again. Being given things without giving in return. He would find something for Tyler eventually. He knew that the man didn't expect anything in return, but after years of living with this premise, it couldn't simply be switched off like that.  
"I.. thank you, Tyler." He put it on after putting on one of the more winter-suited, long-sleeved shirts he possessed, and looked down at himself.  
"It suits you. May be a little too big, but that just makes it look more adorable."  
MacCready felt his cheeks heat up, and rubbed them. "Tyler-"  
"No, I mean it. Take it or leave it. Now let's get going."

Not everyone was present of course - some still had guard duty -, but it was still a good amount of people there. The Castle was the main base after all.  
As the sniper looked around he spotted Piper near a fireplace with Garvey, as well as Hancock. Of course that ghoul wouldn't miss an opportunity to get drunk.  
He was still nervous, but this time for a different reason. If what Hancock had said was true - that they all knew something was going on between the two for a while now - the jokes would come his way soon enough.

Tyler took his hand and led him over to the familiar faces. But instead of sitting down, Tyler stood on a tire, which didn't increase his height and ability to see over the courtyard significantly, and yelled out: "Everyone listen up for a moment! I have some things to say."  
The crowd slowly got quiet, and those standing further away gathered closer.

"Now, I first want to apologise for having been away for so long. I shouldn't have run off, but in the end it was necessary, and all was well. All thanks to Preston Garvey and Robert MacCready, as well as all of you who kept working hard, and trusting me to come back!" He started clapping, and the others joined in.  
Once the clapping died down a little, he continued.  
"I am a little sad to hear though, that my partner hadn't been treated nicely without my presence around." Oh, no. Why couldn't he just say 'It's nice to have him back' and be done with it? What if they thought he had snitched on them, and wanted to take revenge?  
"I will make it clear now, that he is to be treated like one of authority like Preston or me. If you have any problems regarding anything you can _talk_ to him. For anyone still distrusting him due to past actions: MacCready had bore great hardship while he, too, had been gone. You probably have heard already that he had been abducted. Gunners, the very people some of you thought he would sell us out to, had attempted to get information regarding our work out of him; and he had not given into any of their torture, despite what disgusting things they had done to him."  
MacCready stole a glance into the crowd. Those who looked at him didn't appear angry in the slightest. They weren't impressed either. It was more so.. pity.  
He looked back down at his feet. MacCready wished to not cause more trouble, and that would at least require a healthy working environment.  
"It is something one should respect, and that's what I expect from you all. We are all one. No one is to be excluded from anything-"

" **Together we stand!** " someone chimed in, and all heads turned to the voice. Ronnie Shaw stood on the western wall, raising her fist in the air. Tyler smiled lightly and joined in, and so did Preston.  
More and more did. He jumped slightly when feeling an arm snaking around his waist, and pulling him close. Tyler smiled widely at him, his other fist still in the air while the mass of Minutemen called out "together we stand".  
"Alright, I won't hold you back from relaxing a little any longer!"

Tyler stepped down from the tire, and was now smaller than him once more.  
Hancock commented: "Pretty nice idea. Having the occasional parties to keep their spirits up."  
The General shrugged and sat down, leaving Mac enough space to sit on the same tire. "I just thought that without holidays, I needed to improvise."

Piper had been awfully quiet during the whole scene, and was still staring at Tyler.  
MacCready noticed earlier than his partner, and asked: "Piper, you've been looking at Tyler as if he'd finally grown a beard."  
"Hey," the man complained, "I swear I feel a little stubble growin'!" He rubbed his hand over the lower part of his face. MacCready laughed: "Sure you do."  
Piper shook her head: "Don't tell me you guys don't see how much he's changed!"  
The ghoul smirked: "He became a man."  
"No, I mean.. ugh, whatever. Let's just start the interview, Blue." She grabbed a little notebook and pen.

Mac was confused about what interview this was going to be. Something about rescuing him, but even his interest was piqued when it was worth an article.

"It started when I chose to quit Med-X."

_He had been feeling angry at first. Sad to leave someone behind just like that, too. But he knew what he had to do, what had to be done forthwith. Tyler had traveled a few days, beginning to feel delirious, sweaty and sick without the drug he thought he needed.  
He had a lot of time to think though, even with his mind being in scrambles._   
_After what felt like years to him, he reached a church up North, and since it had started to rain along with the cold temperatures, he chose to go in through the basement._   
_The place looked dirty, and destroyed, but it did enough to shield him from the cold outside._   
_It smelled of blood in there though. Much of it._   
_In fear of this space being occupied already, he crouched down low, 10mm in hand, and pushed through his fear of this creepy place. It used to be the Museum of Witchcraft, and despite not believing in things like magic, there appeared to be an aura here.  
_

"Hey, what are you guys talkin' about?"  
Tyler was lifted off his seat by muscular arms wrapped around his arms and torso.  
"He's not boring you with our old band, is he?" Sam laughed loudly. Tyler attempted to wriggle out of his hold, but it seemed that guy was stronger than him; which scared the sniper a little. The tall ghoul sat down on the tire which both of them had been occupying, pushing the other man off of it. What a pleasant person.  
Mac watched Tyler kick out, trying to make Sam lose his balance. It came as a surprise to all of them to see the General uppercut his friend when he managed to get one of his arms free.  
"Oof." He fell back with a final push, and Tyler sat back down on the tire as if this was a normal occurrence.  
"Still putting up a fight, Stehli. I like that."  
"Scuffling is never unlearned, Sammy."  
MacCready quickly sat back down next to Tyler before this strange guy could, and urged him to continue the story, but Preston asked: "Is this a normal thing you two do?"  
He had been told about Sam's friend-status, and that his mother was also here now. Tyler understandably didn't want many to know, as that could lead to them also getting taken away.  
"It is," Sam answered in the other's stead, and sat on the dirt, close to Tyler, "We used to brawl with each other just outta nowhere in our old group. No broken bones, but bloody noses, and bruises." He seemed proud of that.  
He was glad when Piper deflated his ego a little by pointing out: "You constantly fought someone with anger issues? Don't you think that was a rather... foolish idea?"  
Tyler shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It used to be friendly sparring. But let us continue the story. I'm sure you're wondering how I got from up North, down to the Gunner camp."

_He had found the stairs after sneaking through a few rooms. While passing them, he had made the mistake to look up, and watched a body being dragged away by something **large** and growling. So when he had looked back down and seen a person standing there in the dark, seemingly motionless he had almost shot at them and alarmed whatever thing was creeping around upstairs, until he looked closer and found that it had merely and luckily been a mannequin._

"You got scared by a mannequin?!" Sam chuckled. "Man, you're growing old on me."  
MacCready wanted to punch this guy and call it sparring as well now. Couldn't he keep quiet for a few minutes?  
Hancock huffed: "Happens to the best of us."  
"As I was saying.."

 _After recovering from the possible heart attack, he slipped up the stairs, gun aimed forward. There was no sight of anything dangerous. Even the growling and heavy breaths have stopped. So he walked though a displaying room, reaching the middle, when the ground behind him shook._  
 _His eyes widened, and he slowly turned around, fearing to see what he knew was there._  
 _A mighty deathclaw matriarch towered over him. He stumbled back, hoping to reach the little room at the end of the short hallway behind him._  
 _But the beast had already lifted its giant claws, and swung at him with all its might; luck had it that he had backed away enough, so that he only lost his eye instead of his whole head._  
 _He crawled along the floor, noticing that he had dropped his gun during his fall. But what would that thing do against this thing anyway?_  
 _He had reached the restroom, and hid in the corner in hope of not being reached by the claws, when he saw the body of a Gunner lying before him, as well as a sack. He quickly searched through it, praying to find a weapon that could get him out of this situation. The deathclaw let out a loud roar, and brought the wall with the door down with one strike, leaving him exposed._  
 _He thought he was going to die, and pulled out the only thing that was in the bag. It as an.. egg._  
 _A rather large one, too._  
 _The beast already pulled its arm up to end his existence, when it stopped just inches before his face. He was sure he would have shat himself in that moment, if he hadn't gone outside already._  
 _Tyler was holding up the egg, as if that fragile thing could protect him; oddly enough it had._  
 _He opened his eye unsurely. The deathclaw was sniffing at the egg._  
 _"Is it yours?"_  
 _Of course it couldn't answer. But he hoped for some sort of explanation to come his way. Because if this indeed was its egg, then he knew he could survive this._  
 _He saw a tape on the ground, and slowly lowered the egg onto the green, cushioned bag it had been. He took the tape, eyes never leaving the deathclaw for long._  
 _And whatever mighty being was up there had heard his wish once again. The recording explained as to why the egg was here, and thus the deathclaw-parent, which had chased after these people who stole their baby from him.. or her. No matter who or what, this was just sad. And since he wanted to make sure it got back home safely, he made the rash decision to help the deathclaw in front of him. If it decided to let him do so.  
_ _"H-hey," he held out his hand towards its snout. It shied away, seemingly unsure of what this strange meat bag wanted from it. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Just.. let me help you get your kid back. It means we will have to get along."_  
 _It stared for a few seconds, then sniffed at his hand, before letting him place his hand on its scaly nose.  
_

_That day he walked with the deathclaw, bag slung over his chest to protect and warm the egg. Surely the thing would die if it didn't have some sort of warmth now, and the parent there wasn't really able to carry and protect it on its own._   
_It had gotten dark when they reached their destination, and Tyler was incredibly tired. He felt like he would pass out if he stopped walking once, but he moved on with the giant threat right next to him._   
_He was met by another deathclaw upon arriving, and he kept still when it approached, feeling his heart quicken. It leaned down to sniff at him, then at the bag. It looked less tense when realising what he was carrying, and backed away to lead him to what seemingly was a nest._   
_He kneeled down, took off the bag and gingerly set the egg in its rightful place._   
_The deathclaw matriarch began to shovel dirt over it, and Tyler had the pleasure of watching the two parents lay together and curl up around their child.  
He hadn't seen these giant lizards so peaceful before, and he was sure that it was a rare occurrence. If it had happened with any other deathclaws he would surely be dead already._

_He hadn't realised he had passed out there, until he woke up hours later. The sun was beginning to rise already, and his eyes widened in fear. Were these beasts going to attack him now that their child was with them again? Why hadn't they done so already? And why had he woken up next to the nest?_

"You are one lucky guy," Hancock mumbled. "And a sleepy one, too. Taking a nap next to two deathclaws.. haven't ever met someone sane and still alive after that."  
Tyler smiled softly: "It was certainly an experience. One I don't need to have again. But it was nice to see that love is still present in what we perceive as monsters."

_One of the parents already was awake, and just coming back from hunting breakfast; two dead brahmins were dragged along behind it, and it reminded Tyler how hungry he was himself._   
_He sat a little further away to give them space. During all this time he had forgotten to take care of his wound and eye, their presence only being noticed due to the gentle and constant pulsing in the general area. He didn't have anything in his backpack to disinfect it with though, only to cover it with some bandages, so that's what he did. He would need to go to a doctor soon. He needed to go back to resume his position as the General soon. But he wasn't sure if he was ready. He didn't feel like he had had an epiphany yet. He didn't feel ready._   
_But he still turned on Radio Freedom on his Pip-Boy, listened to it for a moment while the creatures next to him enjoyed a loud breakfast. That's when he heard it. About MacCready seemingly having vanished some time ago. Suspected kidnapping. They had gotten a photo of him getting tortured, and were asking their General to come back to help them find him. He had been seen at the Castle last._

_Tyler was shocked. How long had he been gone?_  
 _He felt cold, and not just from the temperatures. How as he supposed to find him? What if he was_ **dead** _?_  
 _He grabbed the comic MacCready had put in his backpack, and just stared at it. He wasn't a detective, he wasn't smart, so how could he help?_  
 _His eyes wandered over to the deathclaws who had finished their meal. He needed to get to the Castle fast. And he had an idea that was crazy, even for his standards._

_He whistled quietly, watching the deathclaw matriarch's head perk up at the sound. Tyler got up and slowly walked over, holding the comic out to the creature. It sniffed at it lazily._   
_"I know you don't understand me, but I need your help. I need to get somewhere quick. Return the favour for me, and we're even."_   
_It got up, stretching it's mighty arms and legs, before slumping lower. Tyler grabbed a rope from his backpack, and slowly tied it around the horns. He couldn't believe this was really happening. He sat on its back, and waved the other deathclaw. With that he was off, the beast he was sitting on sprinting down the mountain at a much faster pace than he could ever reach._

_Hours passed in which the deathclaw either sprinted, or walked to catch a break. He was impressed with the stamina it possessed. Reaching the general area of the Castle from up North in such a short time was record-breaking... if records were worth anything anymore._   
_Tyler had kept a grip on the rope for his dear life, steering the deathclaw in the direction he needed to go, until he spotted a familiar red coat running away and into a building upon hearing the heavy footsteps.  
_

"So Piper, concerned about Tyler's whereabouts, runs to the Castle. And instead of finding him walk along the roads like any other normal person would, she sees him ride on a deathclaw, like it's a radstag," Hancock pulled out a little inhaler of jet, breathing in the fumes in it. "Feel like I just got high only listening to this."  
Tyler added: "It's the truth."  
"No one's doubting you, Blue. At least not me. I saw it happen after all."  
Preston leaned forward in anticipation. He was invested in the story. But so was MacCready. The sniper leaned closer. "What happened afterwards?"  
"Well, I had to make sure that Fifi didn't kill her, and after that it seemed like they picked up a trail of Ma-Robert's scent, because it began crawling off somewhere."  
"You named a deathclaw.. 'Fifi'?" Sam asked incredulously. An input that everyone accepted.  
"Yes. What else could I have chosen?"  
MacCready snorted: "I don't know.. maybe DeathMachine? Or Meat Grinder?"  
"But it didn't do anything like that.. until we reached that Gunner camp you were held at. It kind of went.. ham there."

"So that's how productively spend your time without me around: training stubborn and dangerous beasts?"  
"I did so while you were around, too," Tyler gave him a smug grin.  
MacCready raised a brow, until realisation dawned on him. It was a rare occurrence for Tyler to joke, if he did so at all. But.. wow, he really got him there.  
"You jerk!" he pushed him back, so he was laying on the ground now, legs over the tire.  
"Ah, he struck me down! Help!" Tyler cried out dramatically.

Seeing him laying down there, General hat overturned next to him, and his happy eyes looking into his own with this loopy smile of his on his face, sparked something intimate in him. It was nice to see the old Tyler hiding behind the facade of seriousness again.

Hancock whispered, but loud enough for all to hear anyway, so there was no reason to lower his voice: "He's hurt. He needs mouth-to-mouth."  
Piper tried to hide her face behind her notebook, but the observant man had seen the giggle, and could hear it, too.  
He turned back to Tyler, who was still laying on the ground. He held out his hand, and MacCready thought he wanted to be pulled up again, and thus complied. He was instead pulled down as well. He was laying halfway over Tyler's chest, and a protective arm was wrapped around him to hold him close. The ground was a little cold, but the other's body heat was comforting enough that MacCready didn't care.

He heard the other's laugh and giggle, probably theorising whether the two were officially together now or still crushing like teens.

For a second he looked into Sam's eyes, and saw something icier than the temperature around them in his still normal eye, before the ghoul turned away.


	10. (In)direct Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion was all fun and games.  
> That day Tyler and MacCready had finally confessed to feel something for each other.
> 
> But peace was still a long road away.
> 
> Meanwhile, our two heroes visit Med-Tec for a package he should have picked up long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact about me: I'm learning Spanish right now.
> 
> This has nothing to do with anything, but I just wanna mention that I learn it to confuse my mother when I, one day, suddenly start speaking in that language. Of course I also like the language. It sounds nice.  
> They are just talking so fast, I can hardly keep up.  
> The things human's do for the most odd reasons.

The fortress was getting fixed more and more as each day went by, and MacCready felt stronger and healthier again. The Gunners had chosen to leave Tyler's settlements alone after hearing about what had happened to one of their bases.  
This Sam-guy was still giving him these cold glances whenever his partner wasn't around, but Tyler's mother appeared to warm up to him slowly.  
She was a nice woman, and despite having lived more than two centuries in the wastelands of what was once America, there was still something oddly civil left in her that MacCready assigned to quirks from before the Great War; like giving others a handshake, whether they were "important" or not. Or her need to wear attire with less armour whenever she had free time to roam around the Castle.

 _"Let's hope this won't turn out in disfavour of him."_ This statement from Travis long ago still lingered in his mind. A statement he had made after Tyler had freed the to-be-executed prisoners from the BoS's grasp and in the same move humiliated Maxson.  
He had been thinking about it for a while now, and he felt something big coming. Something dangerous. Especially after that dispute at the bridge near Cambridge.

"Tyler, I know that things have been quiet for a while, but that might only have been the calm before the storm." MacCready spoke up about his worries during a meeting with the General, Preston and other Minutemen that were in charge of the settlements around the Commonwealth while Tyler wasn't there himself.  
Tyler rubbed his face. He looked tired and stressed; seemed like he had considered the possibility of a war as well.  
"MacCready is right," Preston took his side, "we have to put all our efforts into building more defences, maybe even utilise all the individual storages to ensure that we won't get caught off guard."  
"What about the people? They'll get scared." Always so concerned about the worries of others. But now this concern would only hurt them.  
"We have to tell them. Even prepare them to fight if we want to win against a force like theirs."  
"And we have to make sure that they won't infiltrate us in any way to spy on us."

So many possibilities, so little resources. MacCready regretted not having acted fast enough at the bridge. Even freeing these prisoners appeared to have been a mistake in retrospect - all good Tyler did was now crashing down on him, and it showed.  
MacCready noticed how restless he slept, and his smiles grew weaker. He was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Okay, we'll do as you say. We have to get more ammo, and buy more materials to build turrets." He stood up, gloved hands coming to rest on his hips. "And we'll train the settlers! No one will be left out, except the old, injured and children. The Brotherhood of Steel could attack at any time, and anywhere. And with their arsenal we cannot take many chances."  
If they only had some other sort of army behind them. One strong and big enough to defeat Maxson and his puppets. But MacCready didn't know how Tyler would manage that, no matter how lucky he had been until now. Luck ultimately ran out.  
No matter what happened, he would stay at his side.  
"On it, General," the others attending the meeting said in unison, and got up to take a break. They had been discussing multiple topics for over an hour now, listening to updates of each settlement and other things. It was tiring and the sniper was glad to finally be able to stretch out his legs again to take a walk with his boyfriend.

They were out a side entrance near the sea, away from curious ears, when Tyler broke the silence between them. He stood straight, hands behind his back. "I am worried, Robert."  
"About what exactly?" he looked ahead at the ocean, watched the waves crash on the sand. There was much to worry about. Specifying it would help.  
Tyler let out a sigh: "About many things." He stepped closer towards the water, and MacCready followed him. The wind was stronger today, and colder. It was still nice to feel it blowing through his hair when he took off his trusty hat.  
"There is the high probability of a war starting soon, and I don't know where to be when it happens. I can't be everywhere at once, can I?"   
"I don't think the Commonwealth could handle another Leopold if we were to clone you."  
The other laughed. It didn't reach his eyes.  
"Jokes aside, Robert... I noticed how I crave.. Med-X." He looked down at his hands. "I don't want to take it again, but being able to stop procrastinating for just one minute would help greatly. I would start **acting** instead of just **thinking**. I would finally be able to relax around my mother, maybe even figure out a plan to attack the Brotherhood of Steel before they do."  
MacCready frowned. It wasn't easy to give up drugs, let alone after having taken them for as long as Tyler had. Of course he would struggle. But he didn't want him to fall back into old habits that were just harming him. "I don't think the meds would make you any stronger or more resilient to stress, Ty. They'll just suppress what is there."  
He was one to talk, with his occasional alcohol fixes.  
"I think I just need to do what I've been doing before everything got so much more official; go explore, scavenge, fight. But where to go? I don't want to wander endlessly only to find out I've wasted enough time to have one of my settlements attacked by Maxson's army."

A thought crossed his mind. An idea he wasn't sure to propose. Tyler had done so much for him already, asking for more would keep him in unspoken debt.  
"What are you thinking about?" Mac looked up from the water he hadn't realised he had been watching.  
"Oh, it's nothing."  
"I see something's going on. Tell me." Tyler looked at him expectantly.  
"I..," he took in a deep breath, "I have a son. His name is Duncan. Before I went to the Commonwealth for the odd jobs here and there, I had a family in the Capital Wasteland. I owned a small farm with my wife, Lucy." When he realised Tyler was focused on paying attention and let him speak, he continued: "Duncan got sick. Blue boils just suddenly appeared all over his body, and he was doing so bad even after I left years ago. No doctor has managed to find out what is going on with him yet. But while looking for some sort of cure, I.. stumbled upon a man named Sinclair, who's friend was suffering from the same disease. And he said that he may know an antidote."

"Mac! W-why?"  
He looked into his friend's amber eyes. They expressed shock.  
"What 'why'?" He put his hat back on, feeling a little anxious under the stern gaze from his boyfriend... well, _he_ was looking down as he was shorter, but still.  
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? If you know how to safe your kid, then we'll damn well go there as soon as possible!"  
"I..." MacCready was once again speechless. He didn't understand why; because of course Tyler would help him. It was always just so surprising, even after all this time.

"Mac, this is your _kid_ we're talking about. Don't say you thought I wouldn't want to help."  
The taller man smiled, showed his dirty teeth, and the other smiled as well.  
"Welp, we got no time to lose!" Tyler suddenly picked him up and threw him over his shoulder, "let's pack our things and go!"

They both had backpacks on, a few cans of water and some food in them, and were almost on their merry way, when a rough and deep voice called out to them.  
" **Ey, Stehli**!"  
Mac knew who it was before even turning around, and he hoped to whatever god there was that Samuel wasn't going to join them on their little journey.  
 _Please, let Tyler be considerate enough to leave him here..._

He turned around to face the tall man. He had a backpack on as well, and carried a heavy sledgehammer in his hand. While he held it it didn't seem to weigh much at all.  
"Hey, Sam. What is it? Mac and I are kinda in a hurry right now."  
The man in question shrugged. "I wanted to come with ya. Three backs carry more materials than one. I heard you wanted to strengthen the defences in all your settlements, and what better way to find them than scavenging?"  
MacCready huffed and crossed his arms. As if Tyler would agree to that! They needed as many people as possible stationed here after al-

"Sure."  
The sniper's eyes widened and he shook his head in shock. "W-what?! But.. he needs to stay here to protect the Castle!" he argued, but one glance at Tyler showed that the man was thinking differently.  
Great. Just great.

"Aw, what, skinny? Don't want me to join you? Don't worry, I know how to take care of myself," he let out a loud laugh, and gave him a strong pat on the back. Too strong to be friendly, and MacCready stumbled forwards a couple steps.  
"Yeah, because your well-being is my greatest concern," he mumbled so only he could hear.  
"Alright, we can continue talking later. We have to go," the General encouraged them.  
How could Tyler not see the weird looks Sam was giving him? The way he was constantly interfering with their business?  
It was Tyler.. that's how.

* * *

"So, this is the place?" Tyler asked, looking the massive building before them up and down.  
The three of them had wandered all the way up from the Castle, passing Goodneighbor, bridges and empty areas with the occasional ferals, mutts and Super Mutants.  
It had taken them a day to get halfway with how many detours they had to take - swimming wasn't an option with this weather, nor was it one to march right though Raider- or Mutant-territory. It was getting dark again now. They had needed more than a day to get here, and they would possibly need more back, depending on how much junk Tyler found lying around.

There was a parking lot before Med-Tek, and there were ferals. Many; or at least enough for him.  
"I suppose we have to fight our way in, huh? Perfect," Sam whispered, taking his sledgehammer into both hands and getting up from the crouched position they were in, hiding behind a dilapidated house.  
MacCready hissed: "Stop, you mungo! We can't catch all their attention at once!"  
Tyler still looked over his shoulder at the walking corpses. "I agree. It will only put us in danger while he still have options to avoid it."  
"What's your plan then, skinny?" That assh-jerk better stop calling him that soon, or he will show him exactly what plan he had.

Mac grabbed a pebble off the ground, aimed, and threw it at the feral standing closest. It hit it on the head, making it look around alertedly. A second pebble landed closer to them, and it wandered over to the sound it had made on the concrete of the road.

Once it was close enough, MacCready whistled quietly.  
It stumbled over on its lanky legs, and picked up its speed at the sight of the mercenary.  
MacCready quickly stepped back. And as it rounded the corner, Tyler rammed the tip of his sword through its rotting brain. The body fell quietly.  
"That's how we can do it until a majority of the ghouls are gone," he added to the perfectly executed demonstration.  
Tyler corrected him: "Ferals, Mac. Not ghouls." Yeah, yeah.

"Ugh, that's goin' to take up too much time, though!" the other protested.  
"But it's something we'll have to do. Wasting all our energy before we even enter the goddamn building won't bring us far, Samuel." Oh, Tough Guy got shown. Hehe.  
"...Fine."  
"Here," the shortest of the three dragged the body over to the ghoul, "you can search through their pockets and see if they got anything useful. Maybe some keys or cards."

It was a task, but after eliminating six more ferals with the same strategy, there were only six more left, meaning each of them had two to fight off.  
"Okay," Tyler whispered, "let's go."  
He kept his revolutionary sword in a firm grip, while Mac took his first couple of shots to two of the ferals. Four more to go.

He was about to pull the trigger of his rifle one last time, when something ran before his scope. "Fu-" he suppressed the curse that threatened to rise as he looked up. Samuel had just run over to the ferals. He had nearly shot him down!

Whatever. He could voice his anger after they were done here.

Tyler stood before him protectively as two of the remaining hostiles dashed towards them. The sniper fumbled with his reloading mechanism as fear built within him, making the task near impossible due to the shaking of his fingers.  
But the General kept his cool, grabbing the zombie that was closer to him by the neck and holding it in place, while he cut the other one's head off with his sword. His movements didn't look graceful, he was used to a weapon less elegant after all, but he managed. And MacCready was just grateful to not have been bitten. Their bites burned like hell.

"Mac, watch ou-," Tyler tried to warn him, to move away, but he reacted too late. The man fell on top of him as the feral pushed.  
He couldn't use the butt of his gun to smash its head in - he might hurt Tyler in the process. Not that he needed to worry about that as suddenly its head was smashed to paste against the wall of the house next to them.

The fear subsided surprisingly quickly, and was replaced with an emotion that was just as negative; aimed at the tall ghoul before them looking all smug.  
Tyler stood up. "Sorry. The thing was stronger than anticipated," he apologised. But MacCready just shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips.  
"Don't worry about it. I'm okay."  
Mac was just glad that his boyfriend was okay. He leaned down and gave him a light peck to the cheek. "I'm just happy you're okay."

"When we're all done exchanging amorousnesses, could we go on? It's getting late." Of course he would interrupt them yet again. God, what was it with him? Did he like Tyler, too? ...damnit.  
"Yes, of course. C'mon, guys." Tyler walked across the lot, a few cars standing around. There was a fountain in the middle of the area behind the steely gates. No surprise it wasn't working. But it was small things as these that made the sniper think: How was it before the war? Even if he had grown up under worse conditions as the one's he was living with right now, he was curious about a more comfortable life. Tyler and him not having to worry about Raider attacks, getting kidnapped or killed at any moment. A house for just the two of them, warm water to shower with. He heard coffee was also a reality.

"Hey, you two," Tyler called out to them, and he turned his attention towards him. The man looked concerned, but about what? "You go in the building, check out the first few rooms to see if there are any hostiles. I.. wanna check out this garage first. Make sure nothing creeps up behind us once we're in there."  
Sounded reasonable. But Mac wasn't happy about his boyfriend checking the garage on his own. Then again, there were many ferals inside, as he had found out the last time he had been in there.  
"..Alright. But be careful, okay? And scream if you need help."  
"Will do!" He smiled and walked in.

MacCready also felt unsafe being alone with Samuel. The guy still gave off these weird vibes - and he didn't know the man enough to trust him yet. But if that's what Tyler asked of him, then he would do so.  
The foyer was seemingly empty, and after checking behind the reception and the room to the right, it turned out to be as abandoned as it looked.

"I found a Medkit. Some Stimpaks and a bottle of water," MacCready stored his loot in his backpack and was about to shoulder the bag again, when he heard a loud scream.  
He drew his rifle and ran to the door to assess the situation outside.  
There was Tyler, running up the steps in a hurry, and behind him a deathclaw. Great. Where had he found this beast? The area had been deserted after they had taken care of the ferals.

The man clumsily stumbled inside, and out of the monster's reach as it stretched its arm through the opening, and MacCready scrambled back into the corner to not get snatched.  
Tyler landed on his stomach, and continued laying there when the deathclaw couldn't reach him. "Guys, I think there's a deathclaw outside."  
"You don't say?" Sam and him answered in unison.  
"Where did you even find that thing?!" MacCready was the first to speak up. The man looked up at him apologetically. "I.. was inside the garage, and went up the platform, when it was just... walking past. I tried to sneak past, but I stumbled over a feral, it looked over and dashed towards me. So I ran here."  
Sam interrupted: "Whatever the case, if we're already here and won't be gettin' out soon, then we might as well take a short break and explore the place tomorrow. I'm starvin'."

 _Wouldn't mind if you did_ , Mac thought to himself. But as soon as the thought passed, he comprehended the morbidity of it and quickly stopped doing so.  
"I agree. I'm also getting hungry. Is there a safe place around here we can squat at?"  
"This room over here should be perfect," Sam gestured to the small room to the right.  
And they squatted there as planned, sharing water and some beer, and cram with some apples. It wasn't the sniper's food of choice, but he wouldn't complain.

An apple was held before him, and MacCready looked up to see who the hand belonged to: Sam.  
"Here, ya need to eat. Can't have ya runnin' around all skinny."  
"Oh, and why not?" The sounds of claws streaking metal stopped slowly. The beast was probably realising it couldn't get in. Finally.  
"Hey, chill, man! I just don't want you passin' out on us!"  
Tyler was being awfully quiet, so he looked over, ignoring the ghoul in front of him for now. The boy's silence was quickly explained: He was playing some video game on his Pip-Boy.

"I won't pass out on you. I have always been thinner than others - you don't gotta rub it in," he grumbled, but still took the offered fruit.

"Hey, Stehli," Sam sat next to him, watching what his friend was doing on the small screen, "you holdin' up okay? You've been quiet ever since I arrived at the Fortress."  
"It's either Fort Independence or The Castle, Sam."  
"Yeah, whatever. That's what I mean! You are so... different since the last time I saw you. I can barely recognise you; and I'm not just talkin' about your hair."  
The low-toned sounds from the Pip-Boy indicated that the game had been lost, and Tyler focused on the ghoul next to him.

"Well, I haven't left the Vault I was in just recently. I've spent some time here in the Commonwealth. I may not know everything there is to know, but I've gathered enough experience. I suppose that that changed me."  
Mac smiled. What Tyler said was true. "And you changed in a good way, Ty. Not many can survive out there like you do and still be kind. Yet, you show that it's possible."  
"Thanks, Robert." He received a smile back. Seconds passed in silence, with them both just enjoying each other's company.

Until Sam had to butt in again.  
"So, what are we searchin' for in here?"  
"A cure."  
"Let me guess: It will be in the very last room we search?"  
"Presumably."  
"Well, let's go to bed. We got to be fit if there's even more ferals in here as I think."  
"I'll keep watch," Tyler offered, but MacCready found that idea reprehensible.  
"We can all sleep. I'll see if I can lock the door from the inside." He got up, and inspected the lock. It was still working, and he turned it. "There, we can all get some rest."

When he turned around, Tyler had already taken off his coat, leaving him in his pantaloons and linen shirt. He had folded the jacket to make a makeshift pillow.  
"C'mere," he waved him over, blushing at the suggestion of sleeping together like this with Samuel around. But honestly? He really could use some warmth. It was still incredibly cold even in the building, and the winter coat he had been gifted wasn't enough while not moving and being active in any way.  
The pillow was given to him despite his protests, but Tyler claimed to just use his arm as an underlay.

He didn't care if Samuel looked at him resentfully. He was just happy to sleep like this even with the hard floor beneath them.

* * *

"So, this is the last room, as expected. The cure will be in here," Sam inspected the windows of the secluded room in the middle, but the shutters were closed and there was no way to see inside. MacCready had a bad feeling about this, especially when Tyler's Geiger counter started clicking.  
"Whatever is inside won't be good. Ferals, probably," he suspected.  
Just how to get inside? There was a terminal next to a door, but as he knew himself and Tyler, they both weren't really gifted with the talent of hacking.

Two pairs of eyes focused on the ghoul next to them.  
"Don' look at me! I only know how to pick a lock, and that door," he pointed at the one in front of them as if it wasn't obvious enough which one they were talking about, "don't have one."  
Tyler knocked against the glass. Growls and footsteps could be heard on the other side. Definitely ferals. Just how many? The other leaned against the wall tiredly.

"Maybe we can bust the window and shutters open. And whatever is on the inside will have trouble getting out and attacking us on sight." The General continued to surprise him with his ideas.  
"Sounds like a plan. If the windows were to break," the sniper commented.  
"We'll see about that. Samuel," the short man ordered, "deal some damage to this thing with your hammer."  
The ghoul grinned and handed the weapon over to the other. "Nah, Stehli. This one's for you. Show me if you still got what it takes!"

What did he mean with that? Mac knew that Tyler was incredibly strong, but he thought it had been due to the influence of Buffout when he was younger and then the Med-X.  
"Has Ty always been very... powerful?"  
The ghoul chuckled: "Yep. He never started a fight he couldn't' finish with his opponent beggin' for mercy."  
Tyler looked at them with a.. somewhat displeased expression. But it was gone quickly and the hammer was lifted up in a firm hold.

He swung the heavy end against the glass, only a crack appearing on the dirty, but smooth surface.  
"It's reinforced," Tyler huffed. The Geiger counter kept clicking and was clicking faster as he stepped closer to the window once more. MacCready saw sweat glistening on his forehead. Maybe it was the bad lighting in here, but the man looked rather pale. While passing through all the rooms, staircases and sick testing chambers, Tyler's radiation meter had near constantly picked something up, but oddly enough, MacCready felt fine. And Samuel surely wasn't going to get sick from radiation poisoning.

Another swing, and more cracks appeared on the glass, lines spreading to form a spider web over the damaged material. Alarms sounded and the lights above the door began shining in a steady rhythm.  
The General let out a breathy huff, the clicking resounding in the quiet hallways, while the growling noises in the room increased. A light green glow penetrated the slits between the shutters.  
"Ty, wait!" he yelled, seeing how the boy was swaying on his feet, but still managed to collect enough strength to break the window with the last hit, and blow the hammer right through the metal screen. The screen appeared to have been in a bad condition, as it now collapsed like a house of cards to reveal what was inside.  
Time was moving slowly for the merc, but it felt as if he was still too slow. He stepped forward while the glowing feral ran towards Tyler, who had collapsed feebly on the edge of where the window used to be just now. The man looked disoriented for a few moments, until the Glowing One sunk its decayed teeth into his neck.  
Before he knew what he was doing, regarding the mere **danger level** of this action, he had lifted his rifle and shot the thing in the head until it finally let go of the screaming man.

There were more ferals inside, and it had only been luck to safe Tyler from their gaping maws, and the fact that the Glowing One had positioned itself perfectly to shield his boyfriend from them.

"TYLER!" he stepped forward, pulling him away from the window, while Samuel took care of the remaining hostiles. "O-oh god! A-are you okay? Tyler, can you hear me?" He helped him lay down on the floor comfortably; as possible as it was. MacCready fumbled with the zipper on his backpack, searching for the RadAway he knew they hadn't packed. It was an act of desperation. How couldn't it be, while Tyler laid before him, red blood pouring from his neck and mouth.  
Yes, he had to wrap up the wound until they found help. There was a settlement close. They could use the flares from the Minutemen to signal for assistance once they were outside.

With shaking fingers he grabbed bandage and rubbing alcohol, pouring the liquid over the open wound. He hated how weak, but still how _painful_ the sounds Tyler let out were. Blood bubbles gathered at the corners of his mouth. Oh god. Fuck. Not him, too. _Please, not him, too._  
He looked so pale, eyes unfocused in agony and limbs moving unbalanced and without clear direction.

The bandage was pulled as tightly as possible around his neck without cutting off his airways, and MacCready pressed a blood-smeared palm on the wound to lessen the amount of red spilling from his veins.

"I will take it from here, skinny. You go and get that cure and then we're out of here!" Samuel yelled over the alarm and knelt down next to his injured friend. MacCready could have been told that twice - he didn't want to leave Tyler, not when he needed him. But there was no time to waste.

MacCready jumped through the opening and looked around in a haste. He spotted a small box and opened it, seeing multiple syringes inside with the label "Prevent" on it. Bingo.

"I got it, let's go!" he yelled and grabbed his bag from the floor. Samuel was already carrying Tyler in his arms.

_Colours and lights blurred. Everything looked so strangely tranquil, and at the same time_ _threatening. He shouldn't be feeling the way he was in a place like this, and still... the urge to just give in bugged him without a pause.  
If he could just close his eyes... for one moment._

_But whenever he did so, someone jostled him awake, called his name. And he opened his eyes, unable to do anything more with how his whole body was just numb, and in pain altogether._   
_"Ma-c," he felt like he was choking. He was choking! He couldn't breath!_

_It was all bright, way too bright all of a sudden and he felt sick to his stomach. The abrupt shining of a red glow was gone as quickly as it came._

_"M- ac.."_

_A hand, all too familiar even with the cotton that had filled his head, held his. He squeezed back._

**_"I.. l-ove y-..ou."_ **


End file.
